Contents
I Henry IV
2 Henry IV


I King Henry IV

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

 KING HENRY 
 the Fourth. (KING HENRY IV:) 
 HENRY, 
 Prince of Wales (PRINCE HENRY:) 

 JOHN of Lancaster (LANCASTER:) 

                                                     | 
                                                     | sons of the King 
                                                     | 
 WESTMORELAND: 
 SIR WALTER BLUNT: 
 THOMAS PERCY 
                                                     Earl of Worcester. (EARL OF WORCESTER:) 
 HENRY PERCY 
                                                     Earl of Northumberland. (NORTHUMBERLAND:) 
 HENRY PERCY 
                                                     surnamed HOTSPUR, his son. (HOTSPUR:) 
 EDMUND MORTIMER 
                                                     Earl of March. (MORTIMER:) 
 RICHARD SCROOP 
                                                     Archbishop of York. (ARCHBISHOP OF YORK:) 
 ARCHIBALD 
                                                     Earl of Douglas. (DOUGLAS:) 
 OWEN GLENDOWER: 
 SIR RICHARD VERNON 
                                                     (VERNON:) 
 SIR JOHN FALSTAFF 
                                                     (FALSTAFF:) 
 SIR MICHAEL 
                                                     a friend to the Archbishop of York. 
 POINS: 
 GADSHILL: 
 PETO: 
 BARDOLPH: 
 FRANCIS 
                                                     a waiter. 
 LADY PERCY 
                                                     wife to Hotspur, and sister to Mortimer. 
 LADY MORTIMER 
                                                     daughter to Glendower, 
                                                     and wife to Mortimer. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                                     hostess of a tavern in Eastcheap. (Hostess:) 
                                                     Lords, Officers, Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain, 
                                                     Drawers, two Carriers, Travellers, Attendants, 
                                                     and an Ostler. 
                                                     (Sheriff:) 
                                                     (Vintner:) 
                                                     (Chamberlain:) 
                                                     (First Carrier:) 
                                                     (Second Carrier:) 
                                                     (First Traveller:) 
                                                     (Servant:) 
                                                     (Messenger:) 
                                                     (Ostler:) 



Scene

England. 


Act I

Scene I London. The palace.

                               [Enter KING HENRY, LORD JOHN OF LANCASTER, the EARL 
                               of WESTMORELAND, SIR WALTER BLUNT, and others] 
 KING HENRY IV 
                               So shaken as we are, so wan with care, 
                               Find we a time for frighted peace to pant, 
                               And breathe short-winded accents of new broils 
                               To be commenced in strands afar remote. 
                               No more the thirsty entrance of this soil 
                               Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood; 
                               Nor more shall trenching war channel her fields, 
                               Nor bruise her flowerets with the armed hoofs 
                               Of hostile paces: those opposed eyes, 
                               Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven, 
                               All of one nature, of one substance bred, 
                               Did lately meet in the intestine shock 
                               And furious close of civil butchery 
                               Shall now, in mutual well-beseeming ranks, 
                               March all one way and be no more opposed 
                               Against acquaintance, kindred and allies: 
                               The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife, 
                               No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends, 
                               As far as to the sepulchre of Christ, 
                               Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross 
                               We are impressed and engaged to fight, 
                               Forthwith a power of English shall we levy; 
                               Whose arms were moulded in their mothers' womb 
                               To chase these pagans in those holy fields 
                               Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet 
                               Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd 
                               For our advantage on the bitter cross. 
                               But this our purpose now is twelve month old, 
                               And bootless 'tis to tell you we will go: 
                               Therefore we meet not now. Then let me hear 
                               Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland, 
                               What yesternight our council did decree 
                               In forwarding this dear expedience. 
 WESTMORELAND 
                               My liege, this haste was hot in question, 
                               And many limits of the charge set down 
                               But yesternight: when all athwart there came 
                               A post from Wales loaden with heavy news; 
                               Whose worst was, that the noble Mortimer, 
                               Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight 
                               Against the irregular and wild Glendower, 
                               Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken, 
                               A thousand of his people butchered; 
                               Upon whose dead corpse there was such misuse, 
                               Such beastly shameless transformation, 
                               By those Welshwomen done as may not be 
                               Without much shame retold or spoken of. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                               It seems then that the tidings of this broil 
                               Brake off our business for the Holy Land. 
 WESTMORELAND 
                               This match'd with other did, my gracious lord; 
                               For more uneven and unwelcome news 
                               Came from the north and thus it did import: 
                               On Holy-rood day, the gallant Hotspur there, 
                               Young Harry Percy and brave Archibald, 
                               That ever-valiant and approved Scot, 
                               At Holmedon met, 
                               Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour, 
                               As by discharge of their artillery, 
                               And shape of likelihood, the news was told; 
                               For he that brought them, in the very heat 
                               And pride of their contention did take horse, 
                               Uncertain of the issue any way. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                               Here is a dear, a true industrious friend, 
                               Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse. 
                               Stain'd with the variation of each soil 
                               Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours; 
                               And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news. 
                               The Earl of Douglas is discomfited: 
                               Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty knights, 
                               Balk'd in their own blood did Sir Walter see 
                               On Holmedon's plains. Of prisoners, Hotspur took 
                               Mordake the Earl of Fife, and eldest son 
                               To beaten Douglas; and the Earl of Athol, 
                               Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith: 
                               And is not this an honourable spoil? 
                               A gallant prize? ha, cousin, is it not? 
 WESTMORELAND 
                               In faith, 
                               It is a conquest for a prince to boast of. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                               Yea, there thou makest me sad and makest me sin 
                               In envy that my Lord Northumberland 
                               Should be the father to so blest a son, 
                               A son who is the theme of honour's tongue; 
                               Amongst a grove, the very straightest plant; 
                               Who is sweet Fortune's minion and her pride: 
                               Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him, 
                               See riot and dishonour stain the brow 
                               Of my young Harry. O that it could be proved 
                               That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged 
                               In cradle-clothes our children where they lay, 
                               And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet! 
                               Then would I have his Harry, and he mine. 
                               But let him from my thoughts. What think you, coz, 
                               Of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners, 
                               Which he in this adventure hath surprised, 
                               To his own use he keeps; and sends me word, 
                               I shall have none but Mordake Earl of Fife. 
 WESTMORELAND 
                               This is his uncle's teaching; this is Worcester, 
                               Malevolent to you in all aspects; 
                               Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up 
                               The crest of youth against your dignity. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                               But I have sent for him to answer this; 
                               And for this cause awhile we must neglect 
                               Our holy purpose to Jerusalem. 
                               Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we 
                               Will hold at Windsor; so inform the lords: 
                               But come yourself with speed to us again; 
                               For more is to be said and to be done 
                               Than out of anger can be uttered. 
 WESTMORELAND 
                               I will, my liege. 
                               [Exeunt] 



Scene II London. An apartment of the Prince's.

                               [Enter the PRINCE OF WALES and FALSTAFF] 
 FALSTAFF 
                               Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old sack 
                               and unbuttoning thee after supper and sleeping upon 
                               benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten to 
                               demand that truly which thou wouldst truly know. 
                               What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the 
                               day? Unless hours were cups of sack and minutes 
                               capons and clocks the tongues of bawds and dials the 
                               signs of leaping-houses and the blessed sun himself 
                               a fair hot wench in flame-coloured taffeta, I see no 
                               reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand 
                               the time of the day. 
 FALSTAFF 
                               Indeed, you come near me now, Hal; for we that take 
                               purses go by the moon and the seven stars, and not 
                               by Phoebus, he,'that wandering knight so fair.' And, 
                               I prithee, sweet wag, when thou art king, as, God 
                               save thy grace,--majesty I should say, for grace 
                               thou wilt have none,-- 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               What, none? 
 FALSTAFF 
                               No, by my troth, not so much as will serve to 
                               prologue to an egg and butter. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly. 
 FALSTAFF 
                               Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not 
                               us that are squires of the night's body be called 
                               thieves of the day's beauty: let us be Diana's 
                               foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the 
                               moon; and let men say we be men of good government, 
                               being governed, as the sea is, by our noble and 
                               chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we steal. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Thou sayest well, and it holds well too; for the 
                               fortune of us that are the moon's men doth ebb and 
                               flow like the sea, being governed, as the sea is, 
                               by the moon. As, for proof, now: a purse of gold 
                               most resolutely snatched on Monday night and most 
                               dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning; got with 
                               swearing 'Lay by' and spent with crying 'Bring in;' 
                               now in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder 
                               and by and by in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows. 
 FALSTAFF 
                               By the Lord, thou sayest true, lad. And is not my 
                               hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And 
                               is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance? 
 FALSTAFF 
                               How now, how now, mad wag! what, in thy quips and 
                               thy quiddities? what a plague have I to do with a 
                               buff jerkin? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern? 
 FALSTAFF 
                               Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning many a 
                               time and oft. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part? 
 FALSTAFF 
                               No; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch; 
                               and where it would not, I have used my credit. 
 FALSTAFF 
                               Yea, and so used it that were it not here apparent 
                               that thou art heir apparent--But, I prithee, sweet 
                               wag, shall there be gallows standing in England when 
                               thou art king? and resolution thus fobbed as it is 
                               with the rusty curb of old father antic the law? Do 
                               not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               No; thou shalt. 
 FALSTAFF 
                               Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I'll be a brave judge. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Thou judgest false already: I mean, thou shalt have 
                               the hanging of the thieves and so become a rare hangman. 
 FALSTAFF 
                               Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps with my 
                               humour as well as waiting in the court, I can tell 
                               you. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               For obtaining of suits? 
 FALSTAFF 
                               Yea, for obtaining of suits, whereof the hangman 
                               hath no lean wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am as melancholy 
                               as a gib cat or a lugged bear. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Or an old lion, or a lover's lute. 
 FALSTAFF 
                               Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of 
                               Moor-ditch? 
 FALSTAFF 
                               Thou hast the most unsavoury similes and art indeed 
                               the most comparative, rascalliest, sweet young 
                               prince. But, Hal, I prithee, trouble me no more 
                               with vanity. I would to God thou and I knew where a 
                               commodity of good names were to be bought. An old 
                               lord of the council rated me the other day in the 
                               street about you, sir, but I marked him not; and yet 
                               he talked very wisely, but I regarded him not; and 
                               yet he talked wisely, and in the street too. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Thou didst well; for wisdom cries out in the 
                               streets, and no man regards it. 
 FALSTAFF 
                               O, thou hast damnable iteration and art indeed able 
                               to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much harm upon 
                               me, Hal; God forgive thee for it! Before I knew 
                               thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and now am I, if a man 
                               should speak truly, little better than one of the 
                               wicked. I must give over this life, and I will give 
                               it over: by the Lord, and I do not, I am a villain: 
                               I'll be damned for never a king's son in 
                               Christendom. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack? 
 FALSTAFF 
                               'Zounds, where thou wilt, lad; I'll make one; an I 
                               do not, call me villain and baffle me. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               I see a good amendment of life in thee; from praying 
                               to purse-taking. 
 FALSTAFF 
                               Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal; 'tis no sin for a 
                               man to labour in his vocation. 
                               [Enter POINS] 
                               Poins! Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a 
                               match. O, if men were to be saved by merit, what 
                               hole in hell were hot enough for him? This is the 
                               most omnipotent villain that ever cried 'Stand' to 
                               a true man. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Good morrow, Ned. 
 POINS 
                               Good morrow, sweet Hal. What says Monsieur Remorse? 
                               what says Sir John Sack and Sugar? Jack! how 
                               agrees the devil and thee about thy soul, that thou 
                               soldest him on Good-Friday last for a cup of Madeira 
                               and a cold capon's leg? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Sir John stands to his word, the devil shall have 
                               his bargain; for he was never yet a breaker of 
                               proverbs: he will give the devil his due. 
 POINS 
                               Then art thou damned for keeping thy word with the devil. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Else he had been damned for cozening the devil. 
 POINS 
                               But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by four 
                               o'clock, early at Gadshill! there are pilgrims going 
                               to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders 
                               riding to London with fat purses: I have vizards 
                               for you all; you have horses for yourselves: 
                               Gadshill lies to-night in Rochester: I have bespoke 
                               supper to-morrow night in Eastcheap: we may do it 
                               as secure as sleep. If you will go, I will stuff 
                               your purses full of crowns; if you will not, tarry 
                               at home and be hanged. 
 FALSTAFF 
                               Hear ye, Yedward; if I tarry at home and go not, 
                               I'll hang you for going. 
 POINS 
                               You will, chops? 
 FALSTAFF 
                               Hal, wilt thou make one? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Who, I rob? I a thief? not I, by my faith. 
 FALSTAFF 
                               There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good 
                               fellowship in thee, nor thou camest not of the blood 
                               royal, if thou darest not stand for ten shillings. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Well then, once in my days I'll be a madcap. 
 FALSTAFF 
                               Why, that's well said. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home. 
 FALSTAFF 
                               By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then, when thou art king. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               I care not. 
 POINS 
                               Sir John, I prithee, leave the prince and me alone: 
                               I will lay him down such reasons for this adventure 
                               that he shall go. 
 FALSTAFF 
                               Well, God give thee the spirit of persuasion and him 
                               the ears of profiting, that what thou speakest may 
                               move and what he hears may be believed, that the 
                               true prince may, for recreation sake, prove a false 
                               thief; for the poor abuses of the time want 
                               countenance. Farewell: you shall find me in Eastcheap. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Farewell, thou latter spring! farewell, All-hallown summer! 
                               [Exit Falstaff] 
 POINS 
                               Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us 
                               to-morrow: I have a jest to execute that I cannot 
                               manage alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto and Gadshill 
                               shall rob those men that we have already waylaid: 
                               yourself and I will not be there; and when they 
                               have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut 
                               this head off from my shoulders. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               How shall we part with them in setting forth? 
 POINS 
                               Why, we will set forth before or after them, and 
                               appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at 
                               our pleasure to fail, and then will they adventure 
                               upon the exploit themselves; which they shall have 
                               no sooner achieved, but we'll set upon them. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Yea, but 'tis like that they will know us by our 
                               horses, by our habits and by every other 
                               appointment, to be ourselves. 
 POINS 
                               Tut! our horses they shall not see: I'll tie them 
                               in the wood; our vizards we will change after we 
                               leave them: and, sirrah, I have cases of buckram 
                               for the nonce, to immask our noted outward garments. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Yea, but I doubt they will be too hard for us. 
 POINS 
                               Well, for two of them, I know them to be as 
                               true-bred cowards as ever turned back; and for the 
                               third, if he fight longer than he sees reason, I'll 
                               forswear arms. The virtue of this jest will be, the 
                               incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will 
                               tell us when we meet at supper: how thirty, at 
                               least, he fought with; what wards, what blows, what 
                               extremities he endured; and in the reproof of this 
                               lies the jest. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Well, I'll go with thee: provide us all things 
                               necessary and meet me to-morrow night in Eastcheap; 
                               there I'll sup. Farewell. 
 POINS 
                               Farewell, my lord. 
                               [Exit Poins] 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               I know you all, and will awhile uphold 
                               The unyoked humour of your idleness: 
                               Yet herein will I imitate the sun, 
                               Who doth permit the base contagious clouds 
                               To smother up his beauty from the world, 
                               That, when he please again to be himself, 
                               Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at, 
                               By breaking through the foul and ugly mists 
                               Of vapours that did seem to strangle him. 
                               If all the year were playing holidays, 
                               To sport would be as tedious as to work; 
                               But when they seldom come, they wish'd for come, 
                               And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. 
                               So, when this loose behavior I throw off 
                               And pay the debt I never promised, 
                               By how much better than my word I am, 
                               By so much shall I falsify men's hopes; 
                               And like bright metal on a sullen ground, 
                               My reformation, glittering o'er my fault, 
                               Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes 
                               Than that which hath no foil to set it off. 
                               I'll so offend, to make offence a skill; 
                               Redeeming time when men think least I will. 
                               [Exit] 



Scene III London. The palace.

                                   [Enter the KING, NORTHUMBERLAND, WORCESTER, HOTSPUR, 
                                   SIR WALTER BLUNT, with others] 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                   My blood hath been too cold and temperate, 
                                   Unapt to stir at these indignities, 
                                   And you have found me; for accordingly 
                                   You tread upon my patience: but be sure 
                                   I will from henceforth rather be myself, 
                                   Mighty and to be fear'd, than my condition; 
                                   Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down, 
                                   And therefore lost that title of respect 
                                   Which the proud soul ne'er pays but to the proud. 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                   Our house, my sovereign liege, little deserves 
                                   The scourge of greatness to be used on it; 
                                   And that same greatness too which our own hands 
                                   Have holp to make so portly. 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                                   My lord.-- 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                   Worcester, get thee gone; for I do see 
                                   Danger and disobedience in thine eye: 
                                   O, sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory, 
                                   And majesty might never yet endure 
                                   The moody frontier of a servant brow. 
                                   You have good leave to leave us: when we need 
                                   Your use and counsel, we shall send for you. 
                                   [Exit Worcester] 
                                   You were about to speak. 
                                   [To North] 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                                   Yea, my good lord. 
                                   Those prisoners in your highness' name demanded, 
                                   Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took, 
                                   Were, as he says, not with such strength denied 
                                   As is deliver'd to your majesty: 
                                   Either envy, therefore, or misprison 
                                   Is guilty of this fault and not my son. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   My liege, I did deny no prisoners. 
                                   But I remember, when the fight was done, 
                                   When I was dry with rage and extreme toil, 
                                   Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, 
                                   Came there a certain lord, neat, and trimly dress'd, 
                                   Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin new reap'd 
                                   Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home; 
                                   He was perfumed like a milliner; 
                                   And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held 
                                   A pouncet-box, which ever and anon 
                                   He gave his nose and took't away again; 
                                   Who therewith angry, when it next came there, 
                                   Took it in snuff; and still he smiled and talk'd, 
                                   And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, 
                                   He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly, 
                                   To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse 
                                   Betwixt the wind and his nobility. 
                                   With many holiday and lady terms 
                                   He question'd me; amongst the rest, demanded 
                                   My prisoners in your majesty's behalf. 
                                   I then, all smarting with my wounds being cold, 
                                   To be so pester'd with a popinjay, 
                                   Out of my grief and my impatience, 
                                   Answer'd neglectingly I know not what, 
                                   He should or he should not; for he made me mad 
                                   To see him shine so brisk and smell so sweet 
                                   And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman 
                                   Of guns and drums and wounds,--God save the mark!-- 
                                   And telling me the sovereign'st thing on earth 
                                   Was parmaceti for an inward bruise; 
                                   And that it was great pity, so it was, 
                                   This villanous salt-petre should be digg'd 
                                   Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, 
                                   Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd 
                                   So cowardly; and but for these vile guns, 
                                   He would himself have been a soldier. 
                                   This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord, 
                                   I answer'd indirectly, as I said; 
                                   And I beseech you, let not his report 
                                   Come current for an accusation 
                                   Betwixt my love and your high majesty. 
 SIR WALTER BLUNT 
                                   The circumstance consider'd, good my lord, 
                                   Whate'er Lord Harry Percy then had said 
                                   To such a person and in such a place, 
                                   At such a time, with all the rest retold, 
                                   May reasonably die and never rise 
                                   To do him wrong or any way impeach 
                                   What then he said, so he unsay it now. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                   Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners, 
                                   But with proviso and exception, 
                                   That we at our own charge shall ransom straight 
                                   His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer; 
                                   Who, on my soul, hath wilfully betray'd 
                                   The lives of those that he did lead to fight 
                                   Against that great magician, damn'd Glendower, 
                                   Whose daughter, as we hear, the Earl of March 
                                   Hath lately married. Shall our coffers, then, 
                                   Be emptied to redeem a traitor home? 
                                   Shall we but treason? and indent with fears, 
                                   When they have lost and forfeited themselves? 
                                   No, on the barren mountains let him starve; 
                                   For I shall never hold that man my friend 
                                   Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost 
                                   To ransom home revolted Mortimer. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   Revolted Mortimer! 
                                   He never did fall off, my sovereign liege, 
                                   But by the chance of war; to prove that true 
                                   Needs no more but one tongue for all those wounds, 
                                   Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he took 
                                   When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank, 
                                   In single opposition, hand to hand, 
                                   He did confound the best part of an hour 
                                   In changing hardiment with great Glendower: 
                                   Three times they breathed and three times did 
                                   they drink, 
                                   Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood; 
                                   Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks, 
                                   Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds, 
                                   And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank, 
                                   Bloodstained with these valiant combatants. 
                                   Never did base and rotten policy 
                                   Colour her working with such deadly wounds; 
                                   Nor could the noble Mortimer 
                                   Receive so many, and all willingly: 
                                   Then let not him be slander'd with revolt. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                   Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost belie him; 
                                   He never did encounter with Glendower: 
                                   I tell thee, 
                                   He durst as well have met the devil alone 
                                   As Owen Glendower for an enemy. 
                                   Art thou not ashamed? But, sirrah, henceforth 
                                   Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer: 
                                   Send me your prisoners with the speediest means, 
                                   Or you shall hear in such a kind from me 
                                   As will displease you. My Lord Northumberland, 
                                   We licence your departure with your son. 
                                   Send us your prisoners, or you will hear of it. 
                                   [Exeunt King Henry, Blunt, and train] 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   An if the devil come and roar for them, 
                                   I will not send them: I will after straight 
                                   And tell him so; for I will ease my heart, 
                                   Albeit I make a hazard of my head. 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                                   What, drunk with choler? stay and pause awhile: 
                                   Here comes your uncle. 
                                   [Re-enter WORCESTER] 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   Speak of Mortimer! 
                                   'Zounds, I will speak of him; and let my soul 
                                   Want mercy, if I do not join with him: 
                                   Yea, on his part I'll empty all these veins, 
                                   And shed my dear blood drop by drop in the dust, 
                                   But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer 
                                   As high in the air as this unthankful king, 
                                   As this ingrate and canker'd Bolingbroke. 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                                   Brother, the king hath made your nephew mad. 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                   Who struck this heat up after I was gone? 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners; 
                                   And when I urged the ransom once again 
                                   Of my wife's brother, then his cheek look'd pale, 
                                   And on my face he turn'd an eye of death, 
                                   Trembling even at the name of Mortimer. 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                   I cannot blame him: was not he proclaim'd 
                                   By Richard that dead is the next of blood? 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                                   He was; I heard the proclamation: 
                                   And then it was when the unhappy king, 
                                   --Whose wrongs in us God pardon!--did set forth 
                                   Upon his Irish expedition; 
                                   From whence he intercepted did return 
                                   To be deposed and shortly murdered. 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                   And for whose death we in the world's wide mouth 
                                   Live scandalized and foully spoken of. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   But soft, I pray you; did King Richard then 
                                   Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer 
                                   Heir to the crown? 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                                   He did; myself did hear it. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin king, 
                                   That wished him on the barren mountains starve. 
                                   But shall it be that you, that set the crown 
                                   Upon the head of this forgetful man 
                                   And for his sake wear the detested blot 
                                   Of murderous subornation, shall it be, 
                                   That you a world of curses undergo, 
                                   Being the agents, or base second means, 
                                   The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather? 
                                   O, pardon me that I descend so low, 
                                   To show the line and the predicament 
                                   Wherein you range under this subtle king; 
                                   Shall it for shame be spoken in these days, 
                                   Or fill up chronicles in time to come, 
                                   That men of your nobility and power 
                                   Did gage them both in an unjust behalf, 
                                   As both of you--God pardon it!--have done, 
                                   To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose, 
                                   An plant this thorn, this canker, Bolingbroke? 
                                   And shall it in more shame be further spoken, 
                                   That you are fool'd, discarded and shook off 
                                   By him for whom these shames ye underwent? 
                                   No; yet time serves wherein you may redeem 
                                   Your banish'd honours and restore yourselves 
                                   Into the good thoughts of the world again, 
                                   Revenge the jeering and disdain'd contempt 
                                   Of this proud king, who studies day and night 
                                   To answer all the debt he owes to you 
                                   Even with the bloody payment of your deaths: 
                                   Therefore, I say-- 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                   Peace, cousin, say no more: 
                                   And now I will unclasp a secret book, 
                                   And to your quick-conceiving discontents 
                                   I'll read you matter deep and dangerous, 
                                   As full of peril and adventurous spirit 
                                   As to o'er-walk a current roaring loud 
                                   On the unsteadfast footing of a spear. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   If he fall in, good night! or sink or swim: 
                                   Send danger from the east unto the west, 
                                   So honour cross it from the north to south, 
                                   And let them grapple: O, the blood more stirs 
                                   To rouse a lion than to start a hare! 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                                   Imagination of some great exploit 
                                   Drives him beyond the bounds of patience. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap, 
                                   To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, 
                                   Or dive into the bottom of the deep, 
                                   Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, 
                                   And pluck up drowned honour by the locks; 
                                   So he that doth redeem her thence might wear 
                                   Without corrival, all her dignities: 
                                   But out upon this half-faced fellowship! 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                   He apprehends a world of figures here, 
                                   But not the form of what he should attend. 
                                   Good cousin, give me audience for a while. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   I cry you mercy. 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                   Those same noble Scots 
                                   That are your prisoners,-- 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   I'll keep them all; 
                                   By God, he shall not have a Scot of them; 
                                   No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not: 
                                   I'll keep them, by this hand. 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                   You start away 
                                   And lend no ear unto my purposes. 
                                   Those prisoners you shall keep. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   Nay, I will; that's flat: 
                                   He said he would not ransom Mortimer; 
                                   Forbad my tongue to speak of Mortimer; 
                                   But I will find him when he lies asleep, 
                                   And in his ear I'll holla 'Mortimer!' 
                                   Nay, 
                                   I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak 
                                   Nothing but 'Mortimer,' and give it him 
                                   To keep his anger still in motion. 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                   Hear you, cousin; a word. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   All studies here I solemnly defy, 
                                   Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke: 
                                   And that same sword-and-buckler Prince of Wales, 
                                   But that I think his father loves him not 
                                   And would be glad he met with some mischance, 
                                   I would have him poison'd with a pot of ale. 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                   Farewell, kinsman: I'll talk to you 
                                   When you are better temper'd to attend. 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                                   Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient fool 
                                   Art thou to break into this woman's mood, 
                                   Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own! 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   Why, look you, I am whipp'd and scourged with rods, 
                                   Nettled and stung with pismires, when I hear 
                                   Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke. 
                                   In Richard's time,--what do you call the place?-- 
                                   A plague upon it, it is in Gloucestershire; 
                                   'Twas where the madcap duke his uncle kept, 
                                   His uncle York; where I first bow'd my knee 
                                   Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke,-- 
                                   'Sblood!-- 
                                   When you and he came back from Ravenspurgh. 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                                   At Berkley castle. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   You say true: 
                                   Why, what a candy deal of courtesy 
                                   This fawning greyhound then did proffer me! 
                                   Look,'when his infant fortune came to age,' 
                                   And 'gentle Harry Percy,' and 'kind cousin;' 
                                   O, the devil take such cozeners! God forgive me! 
                                   Good uncle, tell your tale; I have done. 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                   Nay, if you have not, to it again; 
                                   We will stay your leisure. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   I have done, i' faith. 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                   Then once more to your Scottish prisoners. 
                                   Deliver them up without their ransom straight, 
                                   And make the Douglas' son your only mean 
                                   For powers in Scotland; which, for divers reasons 
                                   Which I shall send you written, be assured, 
                                   Will easily be granted. You, my lord, 
                                   [To Northumberland] 
                                   Your son in Scotland being thus employ'd, 
                                   Shall secretly into the bosom creep 
                                   Of that same noble prelate, well beloved, 
                                   The archbishop. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   Of York, is it not? 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                   True; who bears hard 
                                   His brother's death at Bristol, the Lord Scroop. 
                                   I speak not this in estimation, 
                                   As what I think might be, but what I know 
                                   Is ruminated, plotted and set down, 
                                   And only stays but to behold the face 
                                   Of that occasion that shall bring it on. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   I smell it: upon my life, it will do well. 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                                   Before the game is afoot, thou still let'st slip. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   Why, it cannot choose but be a noble plot; 
                                   And then the power of Scotland and of York, 
                                   To join with Mortimer, ha? 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                   And so they shall. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   In faith, it is exceedingly well aim'd. 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                   And 'tis no little reason bids us speed, 
                                   To save our heads by raising of a head; 
                                   For, bear ourselves as even as we can, 
                                   The king will always think him in our debt, 
                                   And think we think ourselves unsatisfied, 
                                   Till he hath found a time to pay us home: 
                                   And see already how he doth begin 
                                   To make us strangers to his looks of love. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   He does, he does: we'll be revenged on him. 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                   Cousin, farewell: no further go in this 
                                   Than I by letters shall direct your course. 
                                   When time is ripe, which will be suddenly, 
                                   I'll steal to Glendower and Lord Mortimer; 
                                   Where you and Douglas and our powers at once, 
                                   As I will fashion it, shall happily meet, 
                                   To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms, 
                                   Which now we hold at much uncertainty. 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                                   Farewell, good brother: we shall thrive, I trust. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   Uncle, Adieu: O, let the hours be short 
                                   Till fields and blows and groans applaud our sport! 
                                   [Exeunt] 


Act II

Scene I Rochester. An inn yard.

                            [Enter a Carrier with a lantern in his hand] 
 First Carrier 
                            Heigh-ho! an it be not four by the day, I'll be 
                            hanged: Charles' wain is over the new chimney, and 
                            yet our horse not packed. What, ostler! 
 Ostler 
                            [Within] Anon, anon. 
 First Carrier 
                            I prithee, Tom, beat Cut's saddle, put a few flocks 
                            in the point; poor jade, is wrung in the withers out 
                            of all cess. 
                            [Enter another Carrier] 
 Second Carrier 
                            Peas and beans are as dank here as a dog, and that 
                            is the next way to give poor jades the bots: this 
                            house is turned upside down since Robin Ostler died. 
 First Carrier 
                            Poor fellow, never joyed since the price of oats 
                            rose; it was the death of him. 
 Second Carrier 
                            I think this be the most villanous house in all 
                            London road for fleas: I am stung like a tench. 
 First Carrier 
                            Like a tench! by the mass, there is ne'er a king 
                            christen could be better bit than I have been since 
                            the first cock. 
 Second Carrier 
                            Why, they will allow us ne'er a jordan, and then we 
                            leak in your chimney; and your chamber-lie breeds 
                            fleas like a loach. 
 First Carrier 
                            What, ostler! come away and be hanged! 
 Second Carrier 
                            I have a gammon of bacon and two razors of ginger, 
                            to be delivered as far as Charing-cross. 
 First Carrier 
                            God's body! the turkeys in my pannier are quite 
                            starved. What, ostler! A plague on thee! hast thou 
                            never an eye in thy head? canst not hear? An 
                            'twere not as good deed as drink, to break the pate 
                            on thee, I am a very villain. Come, and be hanged! 
                            hast thou no faith in thee? 
                            [Enter GADSHILL] 
 GADSHILL 
                            Good morrow, carriers. What's o'clock? 
 First Carrier 
                            I think it be two o'clock. 
 GADSHILL 
                            I pray thee lend me thy lantern, to see my gelding 
                            in the stable. 
 First Carrier 
                            Nay, by God, soft; I know a trick worth two of that, i' faith. 
 GADSHILL 
                            I pray thee, lend me thine. 
 Second Carrier 
                            Ay, when? can'st tell? Lend me thy lantern, quoth 
                            he? marry, I'll see thee hanged first. 
 GADSHILL 
                            Sirrah carrier, what time do you mean to come to London? 
 Second Carrier 
                            Time enough to go to bed with a candle, I warrant 
                            thee. Come, neighbour Mugs, we'll call up the 
                            gentleman: they will along with company, for they 
                            have great charge. 
                            [Exeunt carriers] 
 GADSHILL 
                            What, ho! chamberlain! 
 Chamberlain 
                            [Within] At hand, quoth pick-purse. 
 GADSHILL 
                            That's even as fair as--at hand, quoth the 
                            chamberlain; for thou variest no more from picking 
                            of purses than giving direction doth from labouring; 
                            thou layest the plot how. 
                            [Enter Chamberlain] 
 Chamberlain 
                            Good morrow, Master Gadshill. It holds current that 
                            I told you yesternight: there's a franklin in the 
                            wild of Kent hath brought three hundred marks with 
                            him in gold: I heard him tell it to one of his 
                            company last night at supper; a kind of auditor; one 
                            that hath abundance of charge too, God knows what. 
                            They are up already, and call for eggs and butter; 
                            they will away presently. 
 GADSHILL 
                            Sirrah, if they meet not with Saint Nicholas' 
                            clerks, I'll give thee this neck. 
 Chamberlain 
                            No, I'll none of it: I pray thee keep that for the 
                            hangman; for I know thou worshippest St. Nicholas 
                            as truly as a man of falsehood may. 
 GADSHILL 
                            What talkest thou to me of the hangman? if I hang, 
                            I'll make a fat pair of gallows; for if I hang, old 
                            Sir John hangs with me, and thou knowest he is no 
                            starveling. Tut! there are other Trojans that thou 
                            dreamest not of, the which for sport sake are 
                            content to do the profession some grace; that would, 
                            if matters should be looked into, for their own 
                            credit sake, make all whole. I am joined with no 
                            foot-land rakers, no long-staff sixpenny strikers, 
                            none of these mad mustachio purple-hued malt-worms; 
                            but with nobility and tranquillity, burgomasters and 
                            great oneyers, such as can hold in, such as will 
                            strike sooner than speak, and speak sooner than 
                            drink, and drink sooner than pray: and yet, zounds, 
                            I lie; for they pray continually to their saint, the 
                            commonwealth; or rather, not pray to her, but prey 
                            on her, for they ride up and down on her and make 
                            her their boots. 
 Chamberlain 
                            What, the commonwealth their boots? will she hold 
                            out water in foul way? 
 GADSHILL 
                            She will, she will; justice hath liquored her. We 
                            steal as in a castle, cocksure; we have the receipt 
                            of fern-seed, we walk invisible. 
 Chamberlain 
                            Nay, by my faith, I think you are more beholding to 
                            the night than to fern-seed for your walking invisible. 
 GADSHILL 
                            Give me thy hand: thou shalt have a share in our 
                            purchase, as I am a true man. 
 Chamberlain 
                            Nay, rather let me have it, as you are a false thief. 
 GADSHILL 
                            Go to; 'homo' is a common name to all men. Bid the 
                            ostler bring my gelding out of the stable. Farewell, 
                            you muddy knave. 
                            [Exeunt] 



Scene II The highway, near Gadshill.

                                [Enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS] 
 POINS 
                                Come, shelter, shelter: I have removed Falstaff's 
                                horse, and he frets like a gummed velvet. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                Stand close. 
                                [Enter FALSTAFF] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                Poins! Poins, and be hanged! Poins! 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                Peace, ye fat-kidneyed rascal! what a brawling dost 
                                thou keep! 
 FALSTAFF 
                                Where's Poins, Hal? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                He is walked up to the top of the hill: I'll go seek him. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                I am accursed to rob in that thief's company: the 
                                rascal hath removed my horse, and tied him I know 
                                not where. If I travel but four foot by the squier 
                                further afoot, I shall break my wind. Well, I doubt 
                                not but to die a fair death for all this, if I 
                                'scape hanging for killing that rogue. I have 
                                forsworn his company hourly any time this two and 
                                twenty years, and yet I am bewitched with the 
                                rogue's company. If the rascal hath not given me 
                                medicines to make me love him, I'll be hanged; it 
                                could not be else: I have drunk medicines. Poins! 
                                Hal! a plague upon you both! Bardolph! Peto! 
                                I'll starve ere I'll rob a foot further. An 'twere 
                                not as good a deed as drink, to turn true man and to 
                                leave these rogues, I am the veriest varlet that 
                                ever chewed with a tooth. Eight yards of uneven 
                                ground is threescore and ten miles afoot with me; 
                                and the stony-hearted villains know it well enough: 
                                a plague upon it when thieves cannot be true one to another! 
                                [They whistle] 
                                Whew! A plague upon you all! Give me my horse, you 
                                rogues; give me my horse, and be hanged! 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                Peace, ye fat-guts! lie down; lay thine ear close 
                                to the ground and list if thou canst hear the tread 
                                of travellers. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                Have you any levers to lift me up again, being down? 
                                'Sblood, I'll not bear mine own flesh so far afoot 
                                again for all the coin in thy father's exchequer. 
                                What a plague mean ye to colt me thus? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                Thou liest; thou art not colted, thou art uncolted. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                I prithee, good Prince Hal, help me to my horse, 
                                good king's son. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                Out, ye rogue! shall I be your ostler? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                Go, hang thyself in thine own heir-apparent 
                                garters! If I be ta'en, I'll peach for this. An I 
                                have not ballads made on you all and sung to filthy 
                                tunes, let a cup of sack be my poison: when a jest 
                                is so forward, and afoot too! I hate it. 
                                [Enter GADSHILL, BARDOLPH and PETO] 
 GADSHILL 
                                Stand. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                So I do, against my will. 
 POINS 
                                O, 'tis our setter: I know his voice. Bardolph, 
                                what news? 
 BARDOLPH 
                                Case ye, case ye; on with your vizards: there 's 
                                money of the king's coming down the hill; 'tis going 
                                to the king's exchequer. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                You lie, ye rogue; 'tis going to the king's tavern. 
 GADSHILL 
                                There's enough to make us all. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                To be hanged. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                Sirs, you four shall front them in the narrow lane; 
                                Ned Poins and I will walk lower: if they 'scape 
                                from your encounter, then they light on us. 
 PETO 
                                How many be there of them? 
 GADSHILL 
                                Some eight or ten. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                'Zounds, will they not rob us? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                What, a coward, Sir John Paunch? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather; 
                                but yet no coward, Hal. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                Well, we leave that to the proof. 
 POINS 
                                Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the hedge: 
                                when thou needest him, there thou shalt find him. 
                                Farewell, and stand fast. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hanged. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                Ned, where are our disguises? 
 POINS 
                                Here, hard by: stand close. 
                                [Exeunt PRINCE HENRY and POINS] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I: 
                                every man to his business. 
                                [Enter the Travellers] 
 First Traveller 
                                Come, neighbour: the boy shall lead our horses down 
                                the hill; we'll walk afoot awhile, and ease our legs. 
 Thieves 
                                Stand! 
 Travellers 
                                Jesus bless us! 
 FALSTAFF 
                                Strike; down with them; cut the villains' throats: 
                                ah! whoreson caterpillars! bacon-fed knaves! they 
                                hate us youth: down with them: fleece them. 
 Travellers 
                                O, we are undone, both we and ours for ever! 
 FALSTAFF 
                                Hang ye, gorbellied knaves, are ye undone? No, ye 
                                fat chuffs: I would your store were here! On, 
                                bacons, on! What, ye knaves! young men must live. 
                                You are Grand-jurors, are ye? we'll jure ye, 'faith. 
                                [Here they rob them and bind them. Exeunt] 
                                [Re-enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS] 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                The thieves have bound the true men. Now could thou 
                                and I rob the thieves and go merrily to London, it 
                                would be argument for a week, laughter for a month 
                                and a good jest for ever. 
 POINS 
                                Stand close; I hear them coming. 
                                [Enter the Thieves again] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                Come, my masters, let us share, and then to horse 
                                before day. An the Prince and Poins be not two 
                                arrant cowards, there's no equity stirring: there's 
                                no more valour in that Poins than in a wild-duck. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                Your money! 
 POINS 
                                Villains! 
                                [As they are sharing, the Prince and Poins set upon 
                                them; they all run away; and Falstaff, after a blow 
                                or two, runs away too, leaving the booty behind them] 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                Got with much ease. Now merrily to horse: 
                                The thieves are all scatter'd and possess'd with fear 
                                So strongly that they dare not meet each other; 
                                Each takes his fellow for an officer. 
                                Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death, 
                                And lards the lean earth as he walks along: 
                                Were 't not for laughing, I should pity him. 
 POINS 
                                How the rogue roar'd! 
                                [Exeunt] 



Scene III Warkworth castle

                            [Enter HOTSPUR, solus, reading a letter] 
 HOTSPUR 
                            'But for mine own part, my lord, I could be well 
                            contented to be there, in respect of the love I bear 
                            your house.' He could be contented: why is he not, 
                            then? In respect of the love he bears our house: 
                            he shows in this, he loves his own barn better than 
                            he loves our house. Let me see some more. 'The 
                            purpose you undertake is dangerous;'--why, that's 
                            certain: 'tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to 
                            drink; but I tell you, my lord fool, out of this 
                            nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. 'The 
                            purpose you undertake is dangerous; the friends you 
                            have named uncertain; the time itself unsorted; and 
                            your whole plot too light for the counterpoise of so 
                            great an opposition.' Say you so, say you so? I say 
                            unto you again, you are a shallow cowardly hind, and 
                            you lie. What a lack-brain is this! By the Lord, 
                            our plot is a good plot as ever was laid; our 
                            friends true and constant: a good plot, good 
                            friends, and full of expectation; an excellent plot, 
                            very good friends. What a frosty-spirited rogue is 
                            this! Why, my lord of York commends the plot and the 
                            general course of action. 'Zounds, an I were now by 
                            this rascal, I could brain him with his lady's fan. 
                            Is there not my father, my uncle and myself? lord 
                            Edmund Mortimer, My lord of York and Owen Glendower? 
                            is there not besides the Douglas? have I not all 
                            their letters to meet me in arms by the ninth of the 
                            next month? and are they not some of them set 
                            forward already? What a pagan rascal is this! an 
                            infidel! Ha! you shall see now in very sincerity 
                            of fear and cold heart, will he to the king and lay 
                            open all our proceedings. O, I could divide myself 
                            and go to buffets, for moving such a dish of 
                            skim milk with so honourable an action! Hang him! 
                            let him tell the king: we are prepared. I will set 
                            forward to-night. 
                            [Enter LADY PERCY] 
                            How now, Kate! I must leave you within these two hours. 
 LADY PERCY 
                            O, my good lord, why are you thus alone? 
                            For what offence have I this fortnight been 
                            A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed? 
                            Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that takes from thee 
                            Thy stomach, pleasure and thy golden sleep? 
                            Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth, 
                            And start so often when thou sit'st alone? 
                            Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks; 
                            And given my treasures and my rights of thee 
                            To thick-eyed musing and cursed melancholy? 
                            In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch'd, 
                            And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars; 
                            Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed; 
                            Cry 'Courage! to the field!' And thou hast talk'd 
                            Of sallies and retires, of trenches, tents, 
                            Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets, 
                            Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin, 
                            Of prisoners' ransom and of soldiers slain, 
                            And all the currents of a heady fight. 
                            Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war 
                            And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep, 
                            That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow 
                            Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream; 
                            And in thy face strange motions have appear'd, 
                            Such as we see when men restrain their breath 
                            On some great sudden hest. O, what portents are these? 
                            Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, 
                            And I must know it, else he loves me not. 
 HOTSPUR 
                            What, ho! 
                            [Enter Servant] 
                            Is Gilliams with the packet gone? 
 Servant 
                            He is, my lord, an hour ago. 
 HOTSPUR 
                            Hath Butler brought those horses from the sheriff? 
 Servant 
                            One horse, my lord, he brought even now. 
 HOTSPUR 
                            What horse? a roan, a crop-ear, is it not? 
 Servant 
                            It is, my lord. 
 HOTSPUR 
                            That roan shall by my throne. 
                            Well, I will back him straight: O esperance! 
                            Bid Butler lead him forth into the park. 
                            [Exit Servant] 
 LADY PERCY 
                            But hear you, my lord. 
 HOTSPUR 
                            What say'st thou, my lady? 
 LADY PERCY 
                            What is it carries you away? 
 HOTSPUR 
                            Why, my horse, my love, my horse. 
 LADY PERCY 
                            Out, you mad-headed ape! 
                            A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen 
                            As you are toss'd with. In faith, 
                            I'll know your business, Harry, that I will. 
                            I fear my brother Mortimer doth stir 
                            About his title, and hath sent for you 
                            To line his enterprise: but if you go,-- 
 HOTSPUR 
                            So far afoot, I shall be weary, love. 
 LADY PERCY 
                            Come, come, you paraquito, answer me 
                            Directly unto this question that I ask: 
                            In faith, I'll break thy little finger, Harry, 
                            An if thou wilt not tell me all things true. 
 HOTSPUR 
                            Away, 
                            Away, you trifler! Love! I love thee not, 
                            I care not for thee, Kate: this is no world 
                            To play with mammets and to tilt with lips: 
                            We must have bloody noses and crack'd crowns, 
                            And pass them current too. God's me, my horse! 
                            What say'st thou, Kate? what would'st thou 
                            have with me? 
 LADY PERCY 
                            Do you not love me? do you not, indeed? 
                            Well, do not then; for since you love me not, 
                            I will not love myself. Do you not love me? 
                            Nay, tell me if you speak in jest or no. 
 HOTSPUR 
                            Come, wilt thou see me ride? 
                            And when I am on horseback, I will swear 
                            I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate; 
                            I must not have you henceforth question me 
                            Whither I go, nor reason whereabout: 
                            Whither I must, I must; and, to conclude, 
                            This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate. 
                            I know you wise, but yet no farther wise 
                            Than Harry Percy's wife: constant you are, 
                            But yet a woman: and for secrecy, 
                            No lady closer; for I well believe 
                            Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know; 
                            And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate. 
 LADY PERCY 
                            How! so far? 
 HOTSPUR 
                            Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate: 
                            Whither I go, thither shall you go too; 
                            To-day will I set forth, to-morrow you. 
                            Will this content you, Kate? 
 LADY PERCY 
                            It must of force. 
                            [Exeunt] 



Scene IV The Boar's-Head Tavern, Eastcheap.

                              [Enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS] 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Ned, prithee, come out of that fat room, and lend me 
                              thy hand to laugh a little. 
 POINS 
                              Where hast been, Hal? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              With three or four loggerheads amongst three or four 
                              score hogsheads. I have sounded the very 
                              base-string of humility. Sirrah, I am sworn brother 
                              to a leash of drawers; and can call them all by 
                              their christen names, as Tom, Dick, and Francis. 
                              They take it already upon their salvation, that 
                              though I be but the prince of Wales, yet I am king 
                              of courtesy; and tell me flatly I am no proud Jack, 
                              like Falstaff, but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a 
                              good boy, by the Lord, so they call me, and when I 
                              am king of England, I shall command all the good 
                              lads in Eastcheap. They call drinking deep, dyeing 
                              scarlet; and when you breathe in your watering, they 
                              cry 'hem!' and bid you play it off. To conclude, I 
                              am so good a proficient in one quarter of an hour, 
                              that I can drink with any tinker in his own language 
                              during my life. I tell thee, Ned, thou hast lost 
                              much honour, that thou wert not with me in this sweet 
                              action. But, sweet Ned,--to sweeten which name of 
                              Ned, I give thee this pennyworth of sugar, clapped 
                              even now into my hand by an under-skinker, one that 
                              never spake other English in his life than 'Eight 
                              shillings and sixpence' and 'You are welcome,' with 
                              this shrill addition, 'Anon, anon, sir! Score a pint 
                              of bastard in the Half-Moon,' or so. But, Ned, to 
                              drive away the time till Falstaff come, I prithee, 
                              do thou stand in some by-room, while I question my 
                              puny drawer to what end he gave me the sugar; and do 
                              thou never leave calling 'Francis,' that his tale 
                              to me may be nothing but 'Anon.' Step aside, and 
                              I'll show thee a precedent. 
 POINS 
                              Francis! 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Thou art perfect. 
 POINS 
                              Francis! 
                              [Exit POINS] 
                              [Enter FRANCIS] 
 FRANCIS 
                              Anon, anon, sir. Look down into the Pomgarnet, Ralph. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Come hither, Francis. 
 FRANCIS 
                              My lord? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              How long hast thou to serve, Francis? 
 FRANCIS 
                              Forsooth, five years, and as much as to-- 
 POINS 
                              [Within] Francis! 
 FRANCIS 
                              Anon, anon, sir. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Five year! by'r lady, a long lease for the clinking 
                              of pewter. But, Francis, darest thou be so valiant 
                              as to play the coward with thy indenture and show it 
                              a fair pair of heels and run from it? 
 FRANCIS 
                              O Lord, sir, I'll be sworn upon all the books in 
                              England, I could find in my heart. 
 POINS 
                              [Within] Francis! 
 FRANCIS 
                              Anon, sir. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              How old art thou, Francis? 
 FRANCIS 
                              Let me see--about Michaelmas next I shall be-- 
 POINS 
                              [Within] Francis! 
 FRANCIS 
                              Anon, sir. Pray stay a little, my lord. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Nay, but hark you, Francis: for the sugar thou 
                              gavest me,'twas a pennyworth, wast't not? 
 FRANCIS 
                              O Lord, I would it had been two! 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              I will give thee for it a thousand pound: ask me 
                              when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it. 
 POINS 
                              [Within] Francis! 
 FRANCIS 
                              Anon, anon. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Anon, Francis? No, Francis; but to-morrow, Francis; 
                              or, Francis, o' Thursday; or indeed, Francis, when 
                              thou wilt. But, Francis! 
 FRANCIS 
                              My lord? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Wilt thou rob this leathern jerkin, crystal-button, 
                              not-pated, agate-ring, puke-stocking, caddis-garter, 
                              smooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch,-- 
 FRANCIS 
                              O Lord, sir, who do you mean? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Why, then, your brown bastard is your only drink; 
                              for look you, Francis, your white canvas doublet 
                              will sully: in Barbary, sir, it cannot come to so much. 
 FRANCIS 
                              What, sir? 
 POINS 
                              [Within] Francis! 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Away, you rogue! dost thou not hear them call? 
                              [Here they both call him; the drawer stands amazed, 
                              not knowing which way to go] 
                              [Enter Vintner] 
 Vintner 
                              What, standest thou still, and hearest such a 
                              calling? Look to the guests within. 
                              [Exit Francis] 
                              My lord, old Sir John, with half-a-dozen more, are 
                              at the door: shall I let them in? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Let them alone awhile, and then open the door. 
                              [Exit Vintner] 
                              Poins! 
                              [Re-enter POINS] 
 POINS 
                              Anon, anon, sir. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the thieves are at 
                              the door: shall we be merry? 
 POINS 
                              As merry as crickets, my lad. But hark ye; what 
                              cunning match have you made with this jest of the 
                              drawer? come, what's the issue? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              I am now of all humours that have showed themselves 
                              humours since the old days of goodman Adam to the 
                              pupil age of this present twelve o'clock at midnight. 
                              [Re-enter FRANCIS] 
                              What's o'clock, Francis? 
 FRANCIS 
                              Anon, anon, sir. 
                              [Exit] 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              That ever this fellow should have fewer words than a 
                              parrot, and yet the son of a woman! His industry is 
                              upstairs and downstairs; his eloquence the parcel of 
                              a reckoning. I am not yet of Percy's mind, the 
                              Hotspur of the north; he that kills me some six or 
                              seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his 
                              hands, and says to his wife 'Fie upon this quiet 
                              life! I want work.' 'O my sweet Harry,' says she, 
                              'how many hast thou killed to-day?' 'Give my roan 
                              horse a drench,' says he; and answers 'Some 
                              fourteen,' an hour after; 'a trifle, a trifle.' I 
                              prithee, call in Falstaff: I'll play Percy, and 
                              that damned brawn shall play Dame Mortimer his 
                              wife. 'Rivo!' says the drunkard. Call in ribs, call in tallow. 
                              [Enter FALSTAFF, GADSHILL, BARDOLPH, and PETO; 
                              FRANCIS following with wine] 
 POINS 
                              Welcome, Jack: where hast thou been? 
 FALSTAFF 
                              A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too! 
                              marry, and amen! Give me a cup of sack, boy. Ere I 
                              lead this life long, I'll sew nether stocks and mend 
                              them and foot them too. A plague of all cowards! 
                              Give me a cup of sack, rogue. Is there no virtue extant? 
                              [He drinks] 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter? 
                              pitiful-hearted Titan, that melted at the sweet tale 
                              of the sun's! if thou didst, then behold that compound. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              You rogue, here's lime in this sack too: there is 
                              nothing but roguery to be found in villanous man: 
                              yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime 
                              in it. A villanous coward! Go thy ways, old Jack; 
                              die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be 
                              not forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a 
                              shotten herring. There live not three good men 
                              unhanged in England; and one of them is fat and 
                              grows old: God help the while! a bad world, I say. 
                              I would I were a weaver; I could sing psalms or any 
                              thing. A plague of all cowards, I say still. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              How now, wool-sack! what mutter you? 
 FALSTAFF 
                              A king's son! If I do not beat thee out of thy 
                              kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy 
                              subjects afore thee like a flock of wild-geese, 
                              I'll never wear hair on my face more. You Prince of Wales! 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Why, you whoreson round man, what's the matter? 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Are not you a coward? answer me to that: and Poins there? 
 POINS 
                              'Zounds, ye fat paunch, an ye call me coward, by the 
                              Lord, I'll stab thee. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              I call thee coward! I'll see thee damned ere I call 
                              thee coward: but I would give a thousand pound I 
                              could run as fast as thou canst. You are straight 
                              enough in the shoulders, you care not who sees your 
                              back: call you that backing of your friends? A 
                              plague upon such backing! give me them that will 
                              face me. Give me a cup of sack: I am a rogue, if I 
                              drunk to-day. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              O villain! thy lips are scarce wiped since thou 
                              drunkest last. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              All's one for that. 
                              [He drinks] 
                              A plague of all cowards, still say I. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              What's the matter? 
 FALSTAFF 
                              What's the matter! there be four of us here have 
                              ta'en a thousand pound this day morning. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Where is it, Jack? where is it? 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Where is it! taken from us it is: a hundred upon 
                              poor four of us. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              What, a hundred, man? 
 FALSTAFF 
                              I am a rogue, if I were not at half-sword with a 
                              dozen of them two hours together. I have 'scaped by 
                              miracle. I am eight times thrust through the 
                              doublet, four through the hose; my buckler cut 
                              through and through; my sword hacked like a 
                              hand-saw--ecce signum! I never dealt better since 
                              I was a man: all would not do. A plague of all 
                              cowards! Let them speak: if they speak more or 
                              less than truth, they are villains and the sons of darkness. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Speak, sirs; how was it? 
 GADSHILL 
                              We four set upon some dozen-- 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Sixteen at least, my lord. 
 GADSHILL 
                              And bound them. 
 PETO 
                              No, no, they were not bound. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              You rogue, they were bound, every man of them; or I 
                              am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew. 
 GADSHILL 
                              As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men set upon us-- 
 FALSTAFF 
                              And unbound the rest, and then come in the other. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              What, fought you with them all? 
 FALSTAFF 
                              All! I know not what you call all; but if I fought 
                              not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish: if 
                              there were not two or three and fifty upon poor old 
                              Jack, then am I no two-legged creature. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Pray God you have not murdered some of them. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Nay, that's past praying for: I have peppered two 
                              of them; two I am sure I have paid, two rogues 
                              in buckram suits. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell 
                              thee a lie, spit in my face, call me horse. Thou 
                              knowest my old ward; here I lay and thus I bore my 
                              point. Four rogues in buckram let drive at me-- 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              What, four? thou saidst but two even now. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Four, Hal; I told thee four. 
 POINS 
                              Ay, ay, he said four. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              These four came all a-front, and mainly thrust at 
                              me. I made me no more ado but took all their seven 
                              points in my target, thus. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Seven? why, there were but four even now. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              In buckram? 
 POINS 
                              Ay, four, in buckram suits. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Prithee, let him alone; we shall have more anon. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Dost thou hear me, Hal? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Ay, and mark thee too, Jack. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Do so, for it is worth the listening to. These nine 
                              in buckram that I told thee of-- 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              So, two more already. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Their points being broken,-- 
 POINS 
                              Down fell their hose. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Began to give me ground: but I followed me close, 
                              came in foot and hand; and with a thought seven of 
                              the eleven I paid. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              O monstrous! eleven buckram men grown out of two! 
 FALSTAFF 
                              But, as the devil would have it, three misbegotten 
                              knaves in Kendal green came at my back and let drive 
                              at me; for it was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst 
                              not see thy hand. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              These lies are like their father that begets them; 
                              gross as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou 
                              clay-brained guts, thou knotty-pated fool, thou 
                              whoreson, obscene, grease tallow-catch,-- 
 FALSTAFF 
                              What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the truth 
                              the truth? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Why, how couldst thou know these men in Kendal 
                              green, when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy 
                              hand? come, tell us your reason: what sayest thou to this? 
 POINS 
                              Come, your reason, Jack, your reason. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              What, upon compulsion? 'Zounds, an I were at the 
                              strappado, or all the racks in the world, I would 
                              not tell you on compulsion. Give you a reason on 
                              compulsion! If reasons were as plentiful as 
                              blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon 
                              compulsion, I. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              I'll be no longer guilty of this sin; this sanguine 
                              coward, this bed-presser, this horseback-breaker, 
                              this huge hill of flesh,-- 
 FALSTAFF 
                              'Sblood, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried 
                              neat's tongue, you bull's pizzle, you stock-fish! O 
                              for breath to utter what is like thee! you 
                              tailor's-yard, you sheath, you bowcase; you vile 
                              standing-tuck,-- 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Well, breathe awhile, and then to it again: and 
                              when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons, 
                              hear me speak but this. 
 POINS 
                              Mark, Jack. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              We two saw you four set on four and bound them, and 
                              were masters of their wealth. Mark now, how a plain 
                              tale shall put you down. Then did we two set on you 
                              four; and, with a word, out-faced you from your 
                              prize, and have it; yea, and can show it you here in 
                              the house: and, Falstaff, you carried your guts 
                              away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and roared 
                              for mercy and still run and roared, as ever I heard 
                              bull-calf. What a slave art thou, to hack thy sword 
                              as thou hast done, and then say it was in fight! 
                              What trick, what device, what starting-hole, canst 
                              thou now find out to hide thee from this open and 
                              apparent shame? 
 POINS 
                              Come, let's hear, Jack; what trick hast thou now? 
 FALSTAFF 
                              By the Lord, I knew ye as well as he that made ye. 
                              Why, hear you, my masters: was it for me to kill the 
                              heir-apparent? should I turn upon the true prince? 
                              why, thou knowest I am as valiant as Hercules: but 
                              beware instinct; the lion will not touch the true 
                              prince. Instinct is a great matter; I was now a 
                              coward on instinct. I shall think the better of 
                              myself and thee during my life; I for a valiant 
                              lion, and thou for a true prince. But, by the Lord, 
                              lads, I am glad you have the money. Hostess, clap 
                              to the doors: watch to-night, pray to-morrow. 
                              Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, all the titles 
                              of good fellowship come to you! What, shall we be 
                              merry? shall we have a play extempore? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Content; and the argument shall be thy running away. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Ah, no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me! 
                              [Enter Hostess] 
 Hostess 
                              O Jesu, my lord the prince! 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              How now, my lady the hostess! what sayest thou to 
                              me? 
 Hostess 
                              Marry, my lord, there is a nobleman of the court at 
                              door would speak with you: he says he comes from 
                              your father. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Give him as much as will make him a royal man, and 
                              send him back again to my mother. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              What manner of man is he? 
 Hostess 
                              An old man. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight? Shall 
                              I give him his answer? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Prithee, do, Jack. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              'Faith, and I'll send him packing. 
                              [Exit FALSTAFF] 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Now, sirs: by'r lady, you fought fair; so did you, 
                              Peto; so did you, Bardolph: you are lions too, you 
                              ran away upon instinct, you will not touch the true 
                              prince; no, fie! 
 BARDOLPH 
                              'Faith, I ran when I saw others run. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              'Faith, tell me now in earnest, how came Falstaff's 
                              sword so hacked? 
 PETO 
                              Why, he hacked it with his dagger, and said he would 
                              swear truth out of England but he would make you 
                              believe it was done in fight, and persuaded us to do the like. 
 BARDOLPH 
                              Yea, and to tickle our noses with spear-grass to 
                              make them bleed, and then to beslubber our garments 
                              with it and swear it was the blood of true men. I 
                              did that I did not this seven year before, I blushed 
                              to hear his monstrous devices. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              O villain, thou stolest a cup of sack eighteen years 
                              ago, and wert taken with the manner, and ever since 
                              thou hast blushed extempore. Thou hadst fire and 
                              sword on thy side, and yet thou rannest away: what 
                              instinct hadst thou for it? 
 BARDOLPH 
                              My lord, do you see these meteors? do you behold 
                              these exhalations? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              I do. 
 BARDOLPH 
                              What think you they portend? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Hot livers and cold purses. 
 BARDOLPH 
                              Choler, my lord, if rightly taken. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              No, if rightly taken, halter. 
                              [Re-enter FALSTAFF] 
                              Here comes lean Jack, here comes bare-bone. 
                              How now, my sweet creature of bombast! 
                              How long is't ago, Jack, since thou sawest thine own knee? 
 FALSTAFF 
                              My own knee! when I was about thy years, Hal, I was 
                              not an eagle's talon in the waist; I could have 
                              crept into any alderman's thumb-ring: a plague of 
                              sighing and grief! it blows a man up like a 
                              bladder. There's villanous news abroad: here was 
                              Sir John Bracy from your father; you must to the 
                              court in the morning. That same mad fellow of the 
                              north, Percy, and he of Wales, that gave Amamon the 
                              bastinado and made Lucifer cuckold and swore the 
                              devil his true liegeman upon the cross of a Welsh 
                              hook--what a plague call you him? 
 POINS 
                              O, Glendower. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Owen, Owen, the same; and his son-in-law Mortimer, 
                              and old Northumberland, and that sprightly Scot of 
                              Scots, Douglas, that runs o' horseback up a hill 
                              perpendicular,-- 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              He that rides at high speed and with his pistol 
                              kills a sparrow flying. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              You have hit it. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              So did he never the sparrow. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Well, that rascal hath good mettle in him; he will not run. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Why, what a rascal art thou then, to praise him so 
                              for running! 
 FALSTAFF 
                              O' horseback, ye cuckoo; but afoot he will not budge a foot. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Yes, Jack, upon instinct. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              I grant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is there too, 
                              and one Mordake, and a thousand blue-caps more: 
                              Worcester is stolen away to-night; thy father's 
                              beard is turned white with the news: you may buy 
                              land now as cheap as stinking mackerel. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Why, then, it is like, if there come a hot June and 
                              this civil buffeting hold, we shall buy maidenheads 
                              as they buy hob-nails, by the hundreds. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              By the mass, lad, thou sayest true; it is like we 
                              shall have good trading that way. But tell me, Hal, 
                              art not thou horrible afeard? thou being 
                              heir-apparent, could the world pick thee out three 
                              such enemies again as that fiend Douglas, that 
                              spirit Percy, and that devil Glendower? Art thou 
                              not horribly afraid? doth not thy blood thrill at 
                              it? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Not a whit, i' faith; I lack some of thy instinct. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Well, thou wert be horribly chid tomorrow when thou 
                              comest to thy father: if thou love me, practise an answer. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Do thou stand for my father, and examine me upon the 
                              particulars of my life. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Shall I? content: this chair shall be my state, 
                              this dagger my sceptre, and this cushion my crown. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Thy state is taken for a joined-stool, thy golden 
                              sceptre for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich 
                              crown for a pitiful bald crown! 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Well, an the fire of grace be not quite out of thee, 
                              now shalt thou be moved. Give me a cup of sack to 
                              make my eyes look red, that it may be thought I have 
                              wept; for I must speak in passion, and I will do it 
                              in King Cambyses' vein. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Well, here is my leg. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              And here is my speech. Stand aside, nobility. 
 Hostess 
                              O Jesu, this is excellent sport, i' faith! 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Weep not, sweet queen; for trickling tears are vain. 
 Hostess 
                              O, the father, how he holds his countenance! 
 FALSTAFF 
                              For God's sake, lords, convey my tristful queen; 
                              For tears do stop the flood-gates of her eyes. 
 Hostess 
                              O Jesu, he doth it as like one of these harlotry 
                              players as ever I see! 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Peace, good pint-pot; peace, good tickle-brain. 
                              Harry, I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy 
                              time, but also how thou art accompanied: for though 
                              the camomile, the more it is trodden on the faster 
                              it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted the 
                              sooner it wears. That thou art my son, I have 
                              partly thy mother's word, partly my own opinion, 
                              but chiefly a villanous trick of thine eye and a 
                              foolish-hanging of thy nether lip, that doth warrant 
                              me. If then thou be son to me, here lies the point; 
                              why, being son to me, art thou so pointed at? Shall 
                              the blessed sun of heaven prove a micher and eat 
                              blackberries? a question not to be asked. Shall 
                              the sun of England prove a thief and take purses? a 
                              question to be asked. There is a thing, Harry, 
                              which thou hast often heard of and it is known to 
                              many in our land by the name of pitch: this pitch, 
                              as ancient writers do report, doth defile; so doth 
                              the company thou keepest: for, Harry, now I do not 
                              speak to thee in drink but in tears, not in 
                              pleasure but in passion, not in words only, but in 
                              woes also: and yet there is a virtuous man whom I 
                              have often noted in thy company, but I know not his name. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              What manner of man, an it like your majesty? 
 FALSTAFF 
                              A goodly portly man, i' faith, and a corpulent; of a 
                              cheerful look, a pleasing eye and a most noble 
                              carriage; and, as I think, his age some fifty, or, 
                              by'r lady, inclining to three score; and now I 
                              remember me, his name is Falstaff: if that man 
                              should be lewdly given, he deceiveth me; for, Harry, 
                              I see virtue in his looks. If then the tree may be 
                              known by the fruit, as the fruit by the tree, then, 
                              peremptorily I speak it, there is virtue in that 
                              Falstaff: him keep with, the rest banish. And tell 
                              me now, thou naughty varlet, tell me, where hast 
                              thou been this month? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Dost thou speak like a king? Do thou stand for me, 
                              and I'll play my father. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Depose me? if thou dost it half so gravely, so 
                              majestically, both in word and matter, hang me up by 
                              the heels for a rabbit-sucker or a poulter's hare. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Well, here I am set. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              And here I stand: judge, my masters. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Now, Harry, whence come you? 
 FALSTAFF 
                              My noble lord, from Eastcheap. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              The complaints I hear of thee are grievous. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              'Sblood, my lord, they are false: nay, I'll tickle 
                              ye for a young prince, i' faith. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Swearest thou, ungracious boy? henceforth ne'er look 
                              on me. Thou art violently carried away from grace: 
                              there is a devil haunts thee in the likeness of an 
                              old fat man; a tun of man is thy companion. Why 
                              dost thou converse with that trunk of humours, that 
                              bolting-hutch of beastliness, that swollen parcel 
                              of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed 
                              cloak-bag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with 
                              the pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that 
                              grey iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in 
                              years? Wherein is he good, but to taste sack and 
                              drink it? wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a 
                              capon and eat it? wherein cunning, but in craft? 
                              wherein crafty, but in villany? wherein villanous, 
                              but in all things? wherein worthy, but in nothing? 
 FALSTAFF 
                              I would your grace would take me with you: whom 
                              means your grace? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              That villanous abominable misleader of youth, 
                              Falstaff, that old white-bearded Satan. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              My lord, the man I know. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              I know thou dost. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              But to say I know more harm in him than in myself, 
                              were to say more than I know. That he is old, the 
                              more the pity, his white hairs do witness it; but 
                              that he is, saving your reverence, a whoremaster, 
                              that I utterly deny. If sack and sugar be a fault, 
                              God help the wicked! if to be old and merry be a 
                              sin, then many an old host that I know is damned: if 
                              to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaoh's lean kine 
                              are to be loved. No, my good lord; banish Peto, 
                              banish Bardolph, banish Poins: but for sweet Jack 
                              Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack Falstaff, 
                              valiant Jack Falstaff, and therefore more valiant, 
                              being, as he is, old Jack Falstaff, banish not him 
                              thy Harry's company, banish not him thy Harry's 
                              company: banish plump Jack, and banish all the world. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              I do, I will. 
                              [A knocking heard] 
                              [Exeunt Hostess, FRANCIS, and BARDOLPH] 
                              [Re-enter BARDOLPH, running] 
 BARDOLPH 
                              O, my lord, my lord! the sheriff with a most 
                              monstrous watch is at the door. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Out, ye rogue! Play out the play: I have much to 
                              say in the behalf of that Falstaff. 
                              [Re-enter the Hostess] 
 Hostess 
                              O Jesu, my lord, my lord! 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Heigh, heigh! the devil rides upon a fiddlestick: 
                              what's the matter? 
 Hostess 
                              The sheriff and all the watch are at the door: they 
                              are come to search the house. Shall I let them in? 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Dost thou hear, Hal? never call a true piece of 
                              gold a counterfeit: thou art essentially mad, 
                              without seeming so. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              And thou a natural coward, without instinct. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              I deny your major: if you will deny the sheriff, 
                              so; if not, let him enter: if I become not a cart 
                              as well as another man, a plague on my bringing up! 
                              I hope I shall as soon be strangled with a halter as another. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Go, hide thee behind the arras: the rest walk up 
                              above. Now, my masters, for a true face and good 
                              conscience. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Both which I have had: but their date is out, and 
                              therefore I'll hide me. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Call in the sheriff. 
                              [Exeunt all except PRINCE HENRY and PETO] 
                              [Enter Sheriff and the Carrier] 
                              Now, master sheriff, what is your will with me? 
 Sheriff 
                              First, pardon me, my lord. A hue and cry 
                              Hath follow'd certain men unto this house. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              What men? 
 Sheriff 
                              One of them is well known, my gracious lord, 
                              A gross fat man. 
 Carrier 
                              As fat as butter. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              The man, I do assure you, is not here; 
                              For I myself at this time have employ'd him. 
                              And, sheriff, I will engage my word to thee 
                              That I will, by to-morrow dinner-time, 
                              Send him to answer thee, or any man, 
                              For any thing he shall be charged withal: 
                              And so let me entreat you leave the house. 
 Sheriff 
                              I will, my lord. There are two gentlemen 
                              Have in this robbery lost three hundred marks. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              It may be so: if he have robb'd these men, 
                              He shall be answerable; and so farewell. 
 Sheriff 
                              Good night, my noble lord. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              I think it is good morrow, is it not? 
 Sheriff 
                              Indeed, my lord, I think it be two o'clock. 
                              [Exeunt Sheriff and Carrier] 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              This oily rascal is known as well as Paul's. Go, 
                              call him forth. 
 PETO 
                              Falstaff!--Fast asleep behind the arras, and 
                              snorting like a horse. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Hark, how hard he fetches breath. Search his pockets. 
                              [He searcheth his pockets, and findeth certain papers] 
                              What hast thou found? 
 PETO 
                              Nothing but papers, my lord. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Let's see what they be: read them. 
 PETO 
                              [Reads] Item, A capon,. . 2s. 2d. 
                              Item, Sauce,. . . 4d. 
                              Item, Sack, two gallons, 5s. 8d. 
                              Item, Anchovies and sack after supper, 2s. 6d. 
                              Item, Bread, ob. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              O monstrous! but one half-penny-worth of bread to 
                              this intolerable deal of sack! What there is else, 
                              keep close; we'll read it at more advantage: there 
                              let him sleep till day. I'll to the court in the 
                              morning. We must all to the wars, and thy place 
                              shall be honourable. I'll procure this fat rogue a 
                              charge of foot; and I know his death will be a 
                              march of twelve-score. The money shall be paid 
                              back again with advantage. Be with me betimes in 
                              the morning; and so, good morrow, Peto. 
                              [Exeunt] 
 PETO 
                              Good morrow, good my lord. 


Act III

Scene I Bangor. The Archdeacon's house.

                                   [Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, MORTIMER, and GLENDOWER] 
 MORTIMER 
                                   These promises are fair, the parties sure, 
                                   And our induction full of prosperous hope. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   Lord Mortimer, and cousin Glendower, 
                                   Will you sit down? 
                                   And uncle Worcester: a plague upon it! 
                                   I have forgot the map. 
 GLENDOWER 
                                   No, here it is. 
                                   Sit, cousin Percy; sit, good cousin Hotspur, 
                                   For by that name as oft as Lancaster 
                                   Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale and with 
                                   A rising sigh he wisheth you in heaven. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   And you in hell, as oft as he hears Owen Glendower spoke of. 
 GLENDOWER 
                                   I cannot blame him: at my nativity 
                                   The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, 
                                   Of burning cressets; and at my birth 
                                   The frame and huge foundation of the earth 
                                   Shaked like a coward. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   Why, so it would have done at the same season, if 
                                   your mother's cat had but kittened, though yourself 
                                   had never been born. 
 GLENDOWER 
                                   I say the earth did shake when I was born. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   And I say the earth was not of my mind, 
                                   If you suppose as fearing you it shook. 
 GLENDOWER 
                                   The heavens were all on fire, the earth did tremble. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   O, then the earth shook to see the heavens on fire, 
                                   And not in fear of your nativity. 
                                   Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth 
                                   In strange eruptions; oft the teeming earth 
                                   Is with a kind of colic pinch'd and vex'd 
                                   By the imprisoning of unruly wind 
                                   Within her womb; which, for enlargement striving, 
                                   Shakes the old beldam earth and topples down 
                                   Steeples and moss-grown towers. At your birth 
                                   Our grandam earth, having this distemperature, 
                                   In passion shook. 
 GLENDOWER 
                                   Cousin, of many men 
                                   I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave 
                                   To tell you once again that at my birth 
                                   The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, 
                                   The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds 
                                   Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields. 
                                   These signs have mark'd me extraordinary; 
                                   And all the courses of my life do show 
                                   I am not in the roll of common men. 
                                   Where is he living, clipp'd in with the sea 
                                   That chides the banks of England, Scotland, Wales, 
                                   Which calls me pupil, or hath read to me? 
                                   And bring him out that is but woman's son 
                                   Can trace me in the tedious ways of art 
                                   And hold me pace in deep experiments. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   I think there's no man speaks better Welsh. 
                                   I'll to dinner. 
 MORTIMER 
                                   Peace, cousin Percy; you will make him mad. 
 GLENDOWER 
                                   I can call spirits from the vasty deep. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   Why, so can I, or so can any man; 
                                   But will they come when you do call for them? 
 GLENDOWER 
                                   Why, I can teach you, cousin, to command 
                                   The devil. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil 
                                   By telling truth: tell truth and shame the devil. 
                                   If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither, 
                                   And I'll be sworn I have power to shame him hence. 
                                   O, while you live, tell truth and shame the devil! 
 MORTIMER 
                                   Come, come, no more of this unprofitable chat. 
 GLENDOWER 
                                   Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke made head 
                                   Against my power; thrice from the banks of Wye 
                                   And sandy-bottom'd Severn have I sent him 
                                   Bootless home and weather-beaten back. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   Home without boots, and in foul weather too! 
                                   How 'scapes he agues, in the devil's name? 
 GLENDOWER 
                                   Come, here's the map: shall we divide our right 
                                   According to our threefold order ta'en? 
 MORTIMER 
                                   The archdeacon hath divided it 
                                   Into three limits very equally: 
                                   England, from Trent and Severn hitherto, 
                                   By south and east is to my part assign'd: 
                                   All westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore, 
                                   And all the fertile land within that bound, 
                                   To Owen Glendower: and, dear coz, to you 
                                   The remnant northward, lying off from Trent. 
                                   And our indentures tripartite are drawn; 
                                   Which being sealed interchangeably, 
                                   A business that this night may execute, 
                                   To-morrow, cousin Percy, you and I 
                                   And my good Lord of Worcester will set forth 
                                   To meet your father and the Scottish power, 
                                   As is appointed us, at Shrewsbury. 
                                   My father Glendower is not ready yet, 
                                   Not shall we need his help these fourteen days. 
                                   Within that space you may have drawn together 
                                   Your tenants, friends and neighbouring gentlemen. 
 GLENDOWER 
                                   A shorter time shall send me to you, lords: 
                                   And in my conduct shall your ladies come; 
                                   From whom you now must steal and take no leave, 
                                   For there will be a world of water shed 
                                   Upon the parting of your wives and you. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   Methinks my moiety, north from Burton here, 
                                   In quantity equals not one of yours: 
                                   See how this river comes me cranking in, 
                                   And cuts me from the best of all my land 
                                   A huge half-moon, a monstrous cantle out. 
                                   I'll have the current in this place damm'd up; 
                                   And here the smug and silver Trent shall run 
                                   In a new channel, fair and evenly; 
                                   It shall not wind with such a deep indent, 
                                   To rob me of so rich a bottom here. 
 GLENDOWER 
                                   Not wind? it shall, it must; you see it doth. 
 MORTIMER 
                                   Yea, but 
                                   Mark how he bears his course, and runs me up 
                                   With like advantage on the other side; 
                                   Gelding the opposed continent as much 
                                   As on the other side it takes from you. 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                   Yea, but a little charge will trench him here 
                                   And on this north side win this cape of land; 
                                   And then he runs straight and even. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   I'll have it so: a little charge will do it. 
 GLENDOWER 
                                   I'll not have it alter'd. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   Will not you? 
 GLENDOWER 
                                   No, nor you shall not. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   Who shall say me nay? 
 GLENDOWER 
                                   Why, that will I. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   Let me not understand you, then; speak it in Welsh. 
 GLENDOWER 
                                   I can speak English, lord, as well as you; 
                                   For I was train'd up in the English court; 
                                   Where, being but young, I framed to the harp 
                                   Many an English ditty lovely well 
                                   And gave the tongue a helpful ornament, 
                                   A virtue that was never seen in you. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   Marry, 
                                   And I am glad of it with all my heart: 
                                   I had rather be a kitten and cry mew 
                                   Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers; 
                                   I had rather hear a brazen canstick turn'd, 
                                   Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree; 
                                   And that would set my teeth nothing on edge, 
                                   Nothing so much as mincing poetry: 
                                   'Tis like the forced gait of a shuffling nag. 
 GLENDOWER 
                                   Come, you shall have Trent turn'd. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   I do not care: I'll give thrice so much land 
                                   To any well-deserving friend; 
                                   But in the way of bargain, mark ye me, 
                                   I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair. 
                                   Are the indentures drawn? shall we be gone? 
 GLENDOWER 
                                   The moon shines fair; you may away by night: 
                                   I'll haste the writer and withal 
                                   Break with your wives of your departure hence: 
                                   I am afraid my daughter will run mad, 
                                   So much she doteth on her Mortimer. 
                                   [Exit GLENDOWER] 
 MORTIMER 
                                   Fie, cousin Percy! how you cross my father! 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   I cannot choose: sometime he angers me 
                                   With telling me of the mouldwarp and the ant, 
                                   Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies, 
                                   And of a dragon and a finless fish, 
                                   A clip-wing'd griffin and a moulten raven, 
                                   A couching lion and a ramping cat, 
                                   And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff 
                                   As puts me from my faith. I tell you what; 
                                   He held me last night at least nine hours 
                                   In reckoning up the several devils' names 
                                   That were his lackeys: I cried 'hum,' and 'well, go to,' 
                                   But mark'd him not a word. O, he is as tedious 
                                   As a tired horse, a railing wife; 
                                   Worse than a smoky house: I had rather live 
                                   With cheese and garlic in a windmill, far, 
                                   Than feed on cates and have him talk to me 
                                   In any summer-house in Christendom. 
 MORTIMER 
                                   In faith, he is a worthy gentleman, 
                                   Exceedingly well read, and profited 
                                   In strange concealments, valiant as a lion 
                                   And as wondrous affable and as bountiful 
                                   As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin? 
                                   He holds your temper in a high respect 
                                   And curbs himself even of his natural scope 
                                   When you come 'cross his humour; faith, he does: 
                                   I warrant you, that man is not alive 
                                   Might so have tempted him as you have done, 
                                   Without the taste of danger and reproof: 
                                   But do not use it oft, let me entreat you. 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                   In faith, my lord, you are too wilful-blame; 
                                   And since your coming hither have done enough 
                                   To put him quite beside his patience. 
                                   You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault: 
                                   Though sometimes it show greatness, courage, blood,-- 
                                   And that's the dearest grace it renders you,-- 
                                   Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage, 
                                   Defect of manners, want of government, 
                                   Pride, haughtiness, opinion and disdain: 
                                   The least of which haunting a nobleman 
                                   Loseth men's hearts and leaves behind a stain 
                                   Upon the beauty of all parts besides, 
                                   Beguiling them of commendation. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   Well, I am school'd: good manners be your speed! 
                                   Here come our wives, and let us take our leave. 
                                   [Re-enter GLENDOWER with the ladies] 
 MORTIMER 
                                   This is the deadly spite that angers me; 
                                   My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh. 
 GLENDOWER 
                                   My daughter weeps: she will not part with you; 
                                   She'll be a soldier too, she'll to the wars. 
 MORTIMER 
                                   Good father, tell her that she and my aunt Percy 
                                   Shall follow in your conduct speedily. 
                                   [Glendower speaks to her in Welsh, and she 
                                   answers him in the same] 
 GLENDOWER 
                                   She is desperate here; a peevish self-wind harlotry, 
                                   one that no persuasion can do good upon. 
                                   [The lady speaks in Welsh] 
 MORTIMER 
                                   I understand thy looks: that pretty Welsh 
                                   Which thou pour'st down from these swelling heavens 
                                   I am too perfect in; and, but for shame, 
                                   In such a parley should I answer thee. 
                                   [The lady speaks again in Welsh] 
                                   I understand thy kisses and thou mine, 
                                   And that's a feeling disputation: 
                                   But I will never be a truant, love, 
                                   Till I have learned thy language; for thy tongue 
                                   Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd, 
                                   Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower, 
                                   With ravishing division, to her lute. 
 GLENDOWER 
                                   Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad. 
                                   [The lady speaks again in Welsh] 
 MORTIMER 
                                   O, I am ignorance itself in this! 
 GLENDOWER 
                                   She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down 
                                   And rest your gentle head upon her lap, 
                                   And she will sing the song that pleaseth you 
                                   And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep. 
                                   Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness, 
                                   Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep 
                                   As is the difference betwixt day and night 
                                   The hour before the heavenly-harness'd team 
                                   Begins his golden progress in the east. 
 MORTIMER 
                                   With all my heart I'll sit and hear her sing: 
                                   By that time will our book, I think, be drawn 
 GLENDOWER 
                                   Do so; 
                                   And those musicians that shall play to you 
                                   Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence, 
                                   And straight they shall be here: sit, and attend. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down: come, 
                                   quick, quick, that I may lay my head in thy lap. 
 LADY PERCY 
                                   Go, ye giddy goose. 
                                   [The music plays] 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   Now I perceive the devil understands Welsh; 
                                   And 'tis no marvel he is so humorous. 
                                   By'r lady, he is a good musician. 
 LADY PERCY 
                                   Then should you be nothing but musical for you are 
                                   altogether governed by humours. Lie still, ye thief, 
                                   and hear the lady sing in Welsh. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   I had rather hear Lady, my brach, howl in Irish. 
 LADY PERCY 
                                   Wouldst thou have thy head broken? 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   No. 
 LADY PERCY 
                                   Then be still. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   Neither;'tis a woman's fault. 
 LADY PERCY 
                                   Now God help thee! 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   To the Welsh lady's bed. 
 LADY PERCY 
                                   What's that? 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   Peace! she sings. 
                                   [Here the lady sings a Welsh song] 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   Come, Kate, I'll have your song too. 
 LADY PERCY 
                                   Not mine, in good sooth. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   Not yours, in good sooth! Heart! you swear like a 
                                   comfit-maker's wife. 'Not you, in good sooth,' and 
                                   'as true as I live,' and 'as God shall mend me,' and 
                                   'as sure as day,' 
                                   And givest such sarcenet surety for thy oaths, 
                                   As if thou never walk'st further than Finsbury. 
                                   Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art, 
                                   A good mouth-filling oath, and leave 'in sooth,' 
                                   And such protest of pepper-gingerbread, 
                                   To velvet-guards and Sunday-citizens. 
                                   Come, sing. 
 LADY PERCY 
                                   I will not sing. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                   'Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be red-breast 
                                   teacher. An the indentures be drawn, I'll away 
                                   within these two hours; and so, come in when ye will. 
                                   [Exit] 
 GLENDOWER 
                                   Come, come, Lord Mortimer; you are as slow 
                                   As hot Lord Percy is on fire to go. 
                                   By this our book is drawn; we'll but seal, 
                                   And then to horse immediately. 
 MORTIMER 
                                   With all my heart. 
                                   [Exeunt] 



Scene II London. The palace.

                                      [Enter KING HENRY IV, PRINCE HENRY, and others] 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                      Lords, give us leave; the Prince of Wales and I 
                                      Must have some private conference; but be near at hand, 
                                      For we shall presently have need of you. 
                                      [Exeunt Lords] 
                                      I know not whether God will have it so, 
                                      For some displeasing service I have done, 
                                      That, in his secret doom, out of my blood 
                                      He'll breed revengement and a scourge for me; 
                                      But thou dost in thy passages of life 
                                      Make me believe that thou art only mark'd 
                                      For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven 
                                      To punish my mistreadings. Tell me else, 
                                      Could such inordinate and low desires, 
                                      Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean attempts, 
                                      Such barren pleasures, rude society, 
                                      As thou art match'd withal and grafted to, 
                                      Accompany the greatness of thy blood 
                                      And hold their level with thy princely heart? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                      So please your majesty, I would I could 
                                      Quit all offences with as clear excuse 
                                      As well as I am doubtless I can purge 
                                      Myself of many I am charged withal: 
                                      Yet such extenuation let me beg, 
                                      As, in reproof of many tales devised, 
                                      which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear, 
                                      By smiling pick-thanks and base news-mongers, 
                                      I may, for some things true, wherein my youth 
                                      Hath faulty wander'd and irregular, 
                                      Find pardon on my true submission. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                      God pardon thee! yet let me wonder, Harry, 
                                      At thy affections, which do hold a wing 
                                      Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors. 
                                      Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost. 
                                      Which by thy younger brother is supplied, 
                                      And art almost an alien to the hearts 
                                      Of all the court and princes of my blood: 
                                      The hope and expectation of thy time 
                                      Is ruin'd, and the soul of every man 
                                      Prophetically doth forethink thy fall. 
                                      Had I so lavish of my presence been, 
                                      So common-hackney'd in the eyes of men, 
                                      So stale and cheap to vulgar company, 
                                      Opinion, that did help me to the crown, 
                                      Had still kept loyal to possession 
                                      And left me in reputeless banishment, 
                                      A fellow of no mark nor likelihood. 
                                      By being seldom seen, I could not stir 
                                      But like a comet I was wonder'd at; 
                                      That men would tell their children 'This is he;' 
                                      Others would say 'Where, which is Bolingbroke?' 
                                      And then I stole all courtesy from heaven, 
                                      And dress'd myself in such humility 
                                      That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts, 
                                      Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths, 
                                      Even in the presence of the crowned king. 
                                      Thus did I keep my person fresh and new; 
                                      My presence, like a robe pontifical, 
                                      Ne'er seen but wonder'd at: and so my state, 
                                      Seldom but sumptuous, showed like a feast 
                                      And won by rareness such solemnity. 
                                      The skipping king, he ambled up and down 
                                      With shallow jesters and rash bavin wits, 
                                      Soon kindled and soon burnt; carded his state, 
                                      Mingled his royalty with capering fools, 
                                      Had his great name profaned with their scorns 
                                      And gave his countenance, against his name, 
                                      To laugh at gibing boys and stand the push 
                                      Of every beardless vain comparative, 
                                      Grew a companion to the common streets, 
                                      Enfeoff'd himself to popularity; 
                                      That, being daily swallow'd by men's eyes, 
                                      They surfeited with honey and began 
                                      To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little 
                                      More than a little is by much too much. 
                                      So when he had occasion to be seen, 
                                      He was but as the cuckoo is in June, 
                                      Heard, not regarded; seen, but with such eyes 
                                      As, sick and blunted with community, 
                                      Afford no extraordinary gaze, 
                                      Such as is bent on sun-like majesty 
                                      When it shines seldom in admiring eyes; 
                                      But rather drowzed and hung their eyelids down, 
                                      Slept in his face and render'd such aspect 
                                      As cloudy men use to their adversaries, 
                                      Being with his presence glutted, gorged and full. 
                                      And in that very line, Harry, standest thou; 
                                      For thou has lost thy princely privilege 
                                      With vile participation: not an eye 
                                      But is a-weary of thy common sight, 
                                      Save mine, which hath desired to see thee more; 
                                      Which now doth that I would not have it do, 
                                      Make blind itself with foolish tenderness. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                      I shall hereafter, my thrice gracious lord, 
                                      Be more myself. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                      For all the world 
                                      As thou art to this hour was Richard then 
                                      When I from France set foot at Ravenspurgh, 
                                      And even as I was then is Percy now. 
                                      Now, by my sceptre and my soul to boot, 
                                      He hath more worthy interest to the state 
                                      Than thou the shadow of succession; 
                                      For of no right, nor colour like to right, 
                                      He doth fill fields with harness in the realm, 
                                      Turns head against the lion's armed jaws, 
                                      And, being no more in debt to years than thou, 
                                      Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on 
                                      To bloody battles and to bruising arms. 
                                      What never-dying honour hath he got 
                                      Against renowned Douglas! whose high deeds, 
                                      Whose hot incursions and great name in arms 
                                      Holds from all soldiers chief majority 
                                      And military title capital 
                                      Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ: 
                                      Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swathling clothes, 
                                      This infant warrior, in his enterprises 
                                      Discomfited great Douglas, ta'en him once, 
                                      Enlarged him and made a friend of him, 
                                      To fill the mouth of deep defiance up 
                                      And shake the peace and safety of our throne. 
                                      And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland, 
                                      The Archbishop's grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer, 
                                      Capitulate against us and are up. 
                                      But wherefore do I tell these news to thee? 
                                      Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes, 
                                      Which art my near'st and dearest enemy? 
                                      Thou that art like enough, through vassal fear, 
                                      Base inclination and the start of spleen 
                                      To fight against me under Percy's pay, 
                                      To dog his heels and curtsy at his frowns, 
                                      To show how much thou art degenerate. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                      Do not think so; you shall not find it so: 
                                      And God forgive them that so much have sway'd 
                                      Your majesty's good thoughts away from me! 
                                      I will redeem all this on Percy's head 
                                      And in the closing of some glorious day 
                                      Be bold to tell you that I am your son; 
                                      When I will wear a garment all of blood 
                                      And stain my favours in a bloody mask, 
                                      Which, wash'd away, shall scour my shame with it: 
                                      And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights, 
                                      That this same child of honour and renown, 
                                      This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight, 
                                      And your unthought-of Harry chance to meet. 
                                      For every honour sitting on his helm, 
                                      Would they were multitudes, and on my head 
                                      My shames redoubled! for the time will come, 
                                      That I shall make this northern youth exchange 
                                      His glorious deeds for my indignities. 
                                      Percy is but my factor, good my lord, 
                                      To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf; 
                                      And I will call him to so strict account, 
                                      That he shall render every glory up, 
                                      Yea, even the slightest worship of his time, 
                                      Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart. 
                                      This, in the name of God, I promise here: 
                                      The which if He be pleased I shall perform, 
                                      I do beseech your majesty may salve 
                                      The long-grown wounds of my intemperance: 
                                      If not, the end of life cancels all bands; 
                                      And I will die a hundred thousand deaths 
                                      Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                      A hundred thousand rebels die in this: 
                                      Thou shalt have charge and sovereign trust herein. 
                                      [Enter BLUNT] 
                                      How now, good Blunt? thy looks are full of speed. 
 SIR WALTER BLUNT 
                                      So hath the business that I come to speak of. 
                                      Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word 
                                      That Douglas and the English rebels met 
                                      The eleventh of this month at Shrewsbury 
                                      A mighty and a fearful head they are, 
                                      If promises be kept on every hand, 
                                      As ever offer'd foul play in the state. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                      The Earl of Westmoreland set forth to-day; 
                                      With him my son, Lord John of Lancaster; 
                                      For this advertisement is five days old: 
                                      On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall set forward; 
                                      On Thursday we ourselves will march: our meeting 
                                      Is Bridgenorth: and, Harry, you shall march 
                                      Through Gloucestershire; by which account, 
                                      Our business valued, some twelve days hence 
                                      Our general forces at Bridgenorth shall meet. 
                                      Our hands are full of business: let's away; 
                                      Advantage feeds him fat, while men delay. 
                                      [Exeunt] 



Scene III Eastcheap. The Boar's-Head Tavern.

                              [Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH] 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since this last 
                              action? do I not bate? do I not dwindle? Why my 
                              skin hangs about me like an like an old lady's loose 
                              gown; I am withered like an old apple-john. Well, 
                              I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some 
                              liking; I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I 
                              shall have no strength to repent. An I have not 
                              forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I 
                              am a peppercorn, a brewer's horse: the inside of a 
                              church! Company, villanous company, hath been the 
                              spoil of me. 
 BARDOLPH 
                              Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live long. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Why, there is it: come sing me a bawdy song; make 
                              me merry. I was as virtuously given as a gentleman 
                              need to be; virtuous enough; swore little; diced not 
                              above seven times a week; went to a bawdy-house once 
                              in a quarter--of an hour; paid money that I 
                              borrowed, three of four times; lived well and in 
                              good compass: and now I live out of all order, out 
                              of all compass. 
 BARDOLPH 
                              Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must needs 
                              be out of all compass, out of all reasonable 
                              compass, Sir John. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life: 
                              thou art our admiral, thou bearest the lantern in 
                              the poop, but 'tis in the nose of thee; thou art the 
                              Knight of the Burning Lamp. 
 BARDOLPH 
                              Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              No, I'll be sworn; I make as good use of it as many 
                              a man doth of a Death's-head or a memento mori: I 
                              never see thy face but I think upon hell-fire and 
                              Dives that lived in purple; for there he is in his 
                              robes, burning, burning. If thou wert any way 
                              given to virtue, I would swear by thy face; my oath 
                              should be 'By this fire, that's God's angel:' but 
                              thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but 
                              for the light in thy face, the son of utter 
                              darkness. When thou rannest up Gadshill in the 
                              night to catch my horse, if I did not think thou 
                              hadst been an ignis fatuus or a ball of wildfire, 
                              there's no purchase in money. O, thou art a 
                              perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light! 
                              Thou hast saved me a thousand marks in links and 
                              torches, walking with thee in the night betwixt 
                              tavern and tavern: but the sack that thou hast 
                              drunk me would have bought me lights as good cheap 
                              at the dearest chandler's in Europe. I have 
                              maintained that salamander of yours with fire any 
                              time this two and thirty years; God reward me for 
                              it! 
 BARDOLPH 
                              'Sblood, I would my face were in your belly! 
 FALSTAFF 
                              God-a-mercy! so should I be sure to be heart-burned. 
                              [Enter Hostess] 
                              How now, Dame Partlet the hen! have you inquired 
                              yet who picked my pocket? 
 Hostess 
                              Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John? do you 
                              think I keep thieves in my house? I have searched, 
                              I have inquired, so has my husband, man by man, boy 
                              by boy, servant by servant: the tithe of a hair 
                              was never lost in my house before. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Ye lie, hostess: Bardolph was shaved and lost many 
                              a hair; and I'll be sworn my pocket was picked. Go 
                              to, you are a woman, go. 
 Hostess 
                              Who, I? no; I defy thee: God's light, I was never 
                              called so in mine own house before. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Go to, I know you well enough. 
 Hostess 
                              No, Sir John; You do not know me, Sir John. I know 
                              you, Sir John: you owe me money, Sir John; and now 
                              you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it: I bought 
                              you a dozen of shirts to your back. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Dowlas, filthy dowlas: I have given them away to 
                              bakers' wives, and they have made bolters of them. 
 Hostess 
                              Now, as I am a true woman, holland of eight 
                              shillings an ell. You owe money here besides, Sir 
                              John, for your diet and by-drinkings, and money lent 
                              you, four and twenty pound. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              He had his part of it; let him pay. 
 Hostess 
                              He? alas, he is poor; he hath nothing. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              How! poor? look upon his face; what call you rich? 
                              let them coin his nose, let them coin his cheeks: 
                              Ill not pay a denier. What, will you make a younker 
                              of me? shall I not take mine case in mine inn but I 
                              shall have my pocket picked? I have lost a 
                              seal-ring of my grandfather's worth forty mark. 
 Hostess 
                              O Jesu, I have heard the prince tell him, I know not 
                              how oft, that ring was copper! 
 FALSTAFF 
                              How! the prince is a Jack, a sneak-cup: 'sblood, an 
                              he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog, if he 
                              would say so. 
                              [Enter PRINCE HENRY and PETO, marching, and FALSTAFF 
                              meets them playing on his truncheon like a life] 
                              How now, lad! is the wind in that door, i' faith? 
                              must we all march? 
 BARDOLPH 
                              Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion. 
 Hostess 
                              My lord, I pray you, hear me. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              What sayest thou, Mistress Quickly? How doth thy 
                              husband? I love him well; he is an honest man. 
 Hostess 
                              Good my lord, hear me. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Prithee, let her alone, and list to me. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              What sayest thou, Jack? 
 FALSTAFF 
                              The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras 
                              and had my pocket picked: this house is turned 
                              bawdy-house; they pick pockets. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              What didst thou lose, Jack? 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four bonds of 
                              forty pound apiece, and a seal-ring of my 
                              grandfather's. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              A trifle, some eight-penny matter. 
 Hostess 
                              So I told him, my lord; and I said I heard your 
                              grace say so: and, my lord, he speaks most vilely 
                              of you, like a foul-mouthed man as he is; and said 
                              he would cudgel you. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              What! he did not? 
 Hostess 
                              There's neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me else. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed 
                              prune; nor no more truth in thee than in a drawn 
                              fox; and for womanhood, Maid Marian may be the 
                              deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, 
                              go 
 Hostess 
                              Say, what thing? what thing? 
 FALSTAFF 
                              What thing! why, a thing to thank God on. 
 Hostess 
                              I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou 
                              shouldst know it; I am an honest man's wife: and, 
                              setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to 
                              call me so. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say 
                              otherwise. 
 Hostess 
                              Say, what beast, thou knave, thou? 
 FALSTAFF 
                              What beast! why, an otter. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              An otter, Sir John! Why an otter? 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Why, she's neither fish nor flesh; a man knows not 
                              where to have her. 
 Hostess 
                              Thou art an unjust man in saying so: thou or any 
                              man knows where to have me, thou knave, thou! 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Thou sayest true, hostess; and he slanders thee most grossly. 
 Hostess 
                              So he doth you, my lord; and said this other day you 
                              ought him a thousand pound. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound? 
 FALSTAFF 
                              A thousand pound, Ha! a million: thy love is worth 
                              a million: thou owest me thy love. 
 Hostess 
                              Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and said he would 
                              cudgel you. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Did I, Bardolph? 
 BARDOLPH 
                              Indeed, Sir John, you said so. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Yea, if he said my ring was copper. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              I say 'tis copper: darest thou be as good as thy word now? 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but man, I dare: 
                              but as thou art prince, I fear thee as I fear the 
                              roaring of a lion's whelp. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              And why not as the lion? 
 FALSTAFF 
                              The king is to be feared as the lion: dost thou 
                              think I'll fear thee as I fear thy father? nay, an 
                              I do, I pray God my girdle break. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy 
                              knees! But, sirrah, there's no room for faith, 
                              truth, nor honesty in this bosom of thine; it is all 
                              filled up with guts and midriff. Charge an honest 
                              woman with picking thy pocket! why, thou whoreson, 
                              impudent, embossed rascal, if there were anything in 
                              thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, memorandums of 
                              bawdy-houses, and one poor penny-worth of 
                              sugar-candy to make thee long-winded, if thy pocket 
                              were enriched with any other injuries but these, I 
                              am a villain: and yet you will stand to if; you will 
                              not pocket up wrong: art thou not ashamed? 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Dost thou hear, Hal? thou knowest in the state of 
                              innocency Adam fell; and what should poor Jack 
                              Falstaff do in the days of villany? Thou seest I 
                              have more flesh than another man, and therefore more 
                              frailty. You confess then, you picked my pocket? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              It appears so by the story. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Hostess, I forgive thee: go, make ready breakfast; 
                              love thy husband, look to thy servants, cherish thy 
                              guests: thou shalt find me tractable to any honest 
                              reason: thou seest I am pacified still. Nay, 
                              prithee, be gone. 
                              [Exit Hostess] 
                              Now Hal, to the news at court: for the robbery, 
                              lad, how is that answered? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              O, my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to 
                              thee: the money is paid back again. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              O, I do not like that paying back; 'tis a double labour. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              I am good friends with my father and may do any thing. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou doest, and 
                              do it with unwashed hands too. 
 BARDOLPH 
                              Do, my lord. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot. 
 FALSTAFF 
                              I would it had been of horse. Where shall I find 
                              one that can steal well? O for a fine thief, of the 
                              age of two and twenty or thereabouts! I am 
                              heinously unprovided. Well, God be thanked for 
                              these rebels, they offend none but the virtuous: I 
                              laud them, I praise them. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Bardolph! 
 BARDOLPH 
                              My lord? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                              Go bear this letter to Lord John of Lancaster, to my 
                              brother John; this to my Lord of Westmoreland. 
                              [Exit Bardolph] 
                              Go, Peto, to horse, to horse; for thou and I have 
                              thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner time. 
                              [Exit Peto] 
                              Jack, meet me to-morrow in the temple hall at two 
                              o'clock in the afternoon. 
                              There shalt thou know thy charge; and there receive 
                              Money and order for their furniture. 
                              The land is burning; Percy stands on high; 
                              And either we or they must lower lie. 
                              [Exit PRINCE HENRY] 
 FALSTAFF 
                              Rare words! brave world! Hostess, my breakfast, come! 
                              O, I could wish this tavern were my drum! 
                              [Exit]

Act IV

Scene I The rebel camp near Shrewsbury.

                                           [Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, and DOUGLAS] 
 HOTSPUR 
                                           Well said, my noble Scot: if speaking truth 
                                           In this fine age were not thought flattery, 
                                           Such attribution should the Douglas have, 
                                           As not a soldier of this season's stamp 
                                           Should go so general current through the world. 
                                           By God, I cannot flatter; I do defy 
                                           The tongues of soothers; but a braver place 
                                           In my heart's love hath no man than yourself: 
                                           Nay, task me to my word; approve me, lord. 
 EARL OF DOUGLAS 
                                           Thou art the king of honour: 
                                           No man so potent breathes upon the ground 
                                           But I will beard him. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                           Do so, and 'tis well. 
                                           [Enter a Messenger with letters] 
                                           What letters hast thou there?--I can but thank you. 
 Messenger 
                                           These letters come from your father. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                           Letters from him! why comes he not himself? 
 Messenger 
                                           He cannot come, my lord; he is grievous sick. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                           'Zounds! how has he the leisure to be sick 
                                           In such a rustling time? Who leads his power? 
                                           Under whose government come they along? 
 Messenger 
                                           His letters bear his mind, not I, my lord. 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                           I prithee, tell me, doth he keep his bed? 
 Messenger 
                                           He did, my lord, four days ere I set forth; 
                                           And at the time of my departure thence 
                                           He was much fear'd by his physicians. 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                           I would the state of time had first been whole 
                                           Ere he by sickness had been visited: 
                                           His health was never better worth than now. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                           Sick now! droop now! this sickness doth infect 
                                           The very life-blood of our enterprise; 
                                           'Tis catching hither, even to our camp. 
                                           He writes me here, that inward sickness-- 
                                           And that his friends by deputation could not 
                                           So soon be drawn, nor did he think it meet 
                                           To lay so dangerous and dear a trust 
                                           On any soul removed but on his own. 
                                           Yet doth he give us bold advertisement, 
                                           That with our small conjunction we should on, 
                                           To see how fortune is disposed to us; 
                                           For, as he writes, there is no quailing now. 
                                           Because the king is certainly possess'd 
                                           Of all our purposes. What say you to it? 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                           Your father's sickness is a maim to us. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                           A perilous gash, a very limb lopp'd off: 
                                           And yet, in faith, it is not; his present want 
                                           Seems more than we shall find it: were it good 
                                           To set the exact wealth of all our states 
                                           All at one cast? to set so rich a main 
                                           On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour? 
                                           It were not good; for therein should we read 
                                           The very bottom and the soul of hope, 
                                           The very list, the very utmost bound 
                                           Of all our fortunes. 
 EARL OF DOUGLAS 
                                           'Faith, and so we should; 
                                           Where now remains a sweet reversion: 
                                           We may boldly spend upon the hope of what 
                                           Is to come in: 
                                           A comfort of retirement lives in this. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                           A rendezvous, a home to fly unto. 
                                           If that the devil and mischance look big 
                                           Upon the maidenhead of our affairs. 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                           But yet I would your father had been here. 
                                           The quality and hair of our attempt 
                                           Brooks no division: it will be thought 
                                           By some, that know not why he is away, 
                                           That wisdom, loyalty and mere dislike 
                                           Of our proceedings kept the earl from hence: 
                                           And think how such an apprehension 
                                           May turn the tide of fearful faction 
                                           And breed a kind of question in our cause; 
                                           For well you know we of the offering side 
                                           Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement, 
                                           And stop all sight-holes, every loop from whence 
                                           The eye of reason may pry in upon us: 
                                           This absence of your father's draws a curtain, 
                                           That shows the ignorant a kind of fear 
                                           Before not dreamt of. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                           You strain too far. 
                                           I rather of his absence make this use: 
                                           It lends a lustre and more great opinion, 
                                           A larger dare to our great enterprise, 
                                           Than if the earl were here; for men must think, 
                                           If we without his help can make a head 
                                           To push against a kingdom, with his help 
                                           We shall o'erturn it topsy-turvy down. 
                                           Yet all goes well, yet all our joints are whole. 
 EARL OF DOUGLAS 
                                           As heart can think: there is not such a word 
                                           Spoke of in Scotland as this term of fear. 
                                           [Enter SIR RICHARD VERNON] 
 HOTSPUR 
                                           My cousin Vernon, welcome, by my soul. 
 VERNON 
                                           Pray God my news be worth a welcome, lord. 
                                           The Earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong, 
                                           Is marching hitherwards; with him Prince John. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                           No harm: what more? 
 VERNON 
                                           And further, I have learn'd, 
                                           The king himself in person is set forth, 
                                           Or hitherwards intended speedily, 
                                           With strong and mighty preparation. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                           He shall be welcome too. Where is his son, 
                                           The nimble-footed madcap Prince of Wales, 
                                           And his comrades, that daff'd the world aside, 
                                           And bid it pass? 
 VERNON 
                                           All furnish'd, all in arms; 
                                           All plumed like estridges that with the wind 
                                           Baited like eagles having lately bathed; 
                                           Glittering in golden coats, like images; 
                                           As full of spirit as the month of May, 
                                           And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer; 
                                           Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls. 
                                           I saw young Harry, with his beaver on, 
                                           His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd 
                                           Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury, 
                                           And vaulted with such ease into his seat, 
                                           As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, 
                                           To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus 
                                           And witch the world with noble horsemanship. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                           No more, no more: worse than the sun in March, 
                                           This praise doth nourish agues. Let them come: 
                                           They come like sacrifices in their trim, 
                                           And to the fire-eyed maid of smoky war 
                                           All hot and bleeding will we offer them: 
                                           The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit 
                                           Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire 
                                           To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh 
                                           And yet not ours. Come, let me taste my horse, 
                                           Who is to bear me like a thunderbolt 
                                           Against the bosom of the Prince of Wales: 
                                           Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse, 
                                           Meet and ne'er part till one drop down a corse. 
                                           O that Glendower were come! 
 VERNON 
                                           There is more news: 
                                           I learn'd in Worcester, as I rode along, 
                                           He cannot draw his power this fourteen days. 
 EARL OF DOUGLAS 
                                           That's the worst tidings that I hear of yet. 
 WORCESTER 
                                           Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty sound. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                           What may the king's whole battle reach unto? 
 VERNON 
                                           To thirty thousand. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                           Forty let it be: 
                                           My father and Glendower being both away, 
                                           The powers of us may serve so great a day 
                                           Come, let us take a muster speedily: 
                                           Doomsday is near; die all, die merrily. 
 EARL OF DOUGLAS 
                                           Talk not of dying: I am out of fear 
                                           Of death or death's hand for this one-half year. 
                                           [Exeunt] 



Scene II A public road near Coventry.

                                     [Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                     Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry; fill me a 
                                     bottle of sack: our soldiers shall march through; 
                                     we'll to Sutton Co'fil' tonight. 
 BARDOLPH 
                                     Will you give me money, captain? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                     Lay out, lay out. 
 BARDOLPH 
                                     This bottle makes an angel. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                     An if it do, take it for thy labour; and if it make 
                                     twenty, take them all; I'll answer the coinage. Bid 
                                     my lieutenant Peto meet me at town's end. 
 BARDOLPH 
                                     I will, captain: farewell. 
                                     [Exit] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                     If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a soused 
                                     gurnet. I have misused the king's press damnably. 
                                     I have got, in exchange of a hundred and fifty 
                                     soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I press me 
                                     none but good house-holders, yeoman's sons; inquire 
                                     me out contracted bachelors, such as had been asked 
                                     twice on the banns; such a commodity of warm slaves, 
                                     as had as lieve hear the devil as a drum; such as 
                                     fear the report of a caliver worse than a struck 
                                     fowl or a hurt wild-duck. I pressed me none but such 
                                     toasts-and-butter, with hearts in their bellies no 
                                     bigger than pins' heads, and they have bought out 
                                     their services; and now my whole charge consists of 
                                     ancients, corporals, lieutenants, gentlemen of 
                                     companies, slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the 
                                     painted cloth, where the glutton's dogs licked his 
                                     sores; and such as indeed were never soldiers, but 
                                     discarded unjust serving-men, younger sons to 
                                     younger brothers, revolted tapsters and ostlers 
                                     trade-fallen, the cankers of a calm world and a 
                                     long peace, ten times more dishonourable ragged than 
                                     an old faced ancient: and such have I, to fill up 
                                     the rooms of them that have bought out their 
                                     services, that you would think that I had a hundred 
                                     and fifty tattered prodigals lately come from 
                                     swine-keeping, from eating draff and husks. A mad 
                                     fellow met me on the way and told me I had unloaded 
                                     all the gibbets and pressed the dead bodies. No eye 
                                     hath seen such scarecrows. I'll not march through 
                                     Coventry with them, that's flat: nay, and the 
                                     villains march wide betwixt the legs, as if they had 
                                     gyves on; for indeed I had the most of them out of 
                                     prison. There's but a shirt and a half in all my 
                                     company; and the half shirt is two napkins tacked 
                                     together and thrown over the shoulders like an 
                                     herald's coat without sleeves; and the shirt, to say 
                                     the truth, stolen from my host at Saint Alban's, or 
                                     the red-nose innkeeper of Daventry. But that's all 
                                     one; they'll find linen enough on every hedge. 
                                     [Enter the PRINCE and WESTMORELAND] 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                     How now, blown Jack! how now, quilt! 
 FALSTAFF 
                                     What, Hal! how now, mad wag! what a devil dost thou 
                                     in Warwickshire? My good Lord of Westmoreland, I 
                                     cry you mercy: I thought your honour had already been 
                                     at Shrewsbury. 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                     Faith, Sir John,'tis more than time that I were 
                                     there, and you too; but my powers are there already. 
                                     The king, I can tell you, looks for us all: we must 
                                     away all night. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                     Tut, never fear me: I am as vigilant as a cat to 
                                     steal cream. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                     I think, to steal cream indeed, for thy theft hath 
                                     already made thee butter. But tell me, Jack, whose 
                                     fellows are these that come after? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                     Mine, Hal, mine. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                     I did never see such pitiful rascals. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                     Tut, tut; good enough to toss; food for powder, food 
                                     for powder; they'll fill a pit as well as better: 
                                     tush, man, mortal men, mortal men. 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                     Ay, but, Sir John, methinks they are exceeding poor 
                                     and bare, too beggarly. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                     'Faith, for their poverty, I know not where they had 
                                     that; and for their bareness, I am sure they never 
                                     learned that of me. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                     No I'll be sworn; unless you call three fingers on 
                                     the ribs bare. But, sirrah, make haste: Percy is 
                                     already in the field. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                     What, is the king encamped? 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                     He is, Sir John: I fear we shall stay too long. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                     Well, 
                                     To the latter end of a fray and the beginning of a feast 
                                     Fits a dull fighter and a keen guest. 
                                     [Exeunt] 



Scene III The rebel camp near Shrewsbury.

                                     [Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, DOUGLAS, and VERNON] 
 HOTSPUR 
                                     We'll fight with him to-night. 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                     It may not be. 
 EARL OF DOUGLAS 
                                     You give him then the advantage. 
 VERNON 
                                     Not a whit. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                     Why say you so? looks he not for supply? 
 VERNON 
                                     So do we. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                     His is certain, ours is doubtful. 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                     Good cousin, be advised; stir not tonight. 
 VERNON 
                                     Do not, my lord. 
 EARL OF DOUGLAS 
                                     You do not counsel well: 
                                     You speak it out of fear and cold heart. 
 VERNON 
                                     Do me no slander, Douglas: by my life, 
                                     And I dare well maintain it with my life, 
                                     If well-respected honour bid me on, 
                                     I hold as little counsel with weak fear 
                                     As you, my lord, or any Scot that this day lives: 
                                     Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle 
                                     Which of us fears. 
 EARL OF DOUGLAS 
                                     Yea, or to-night. 
 VERNON 
                                     Content. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                     To-night, say I. 
 VERNON 
                                     Come, come it nay not be. I wonder much, 
                                     Being men of such great leading as you are, 
                                     That you foresee not what impediments 
                                     Drag back our expedition: certain horse 
                                     Of my cousin Vernon's are not yet come up: 
                                     Your uncle Worcester's horse came but today; 
                                     And now their pride and mettle is asleep, 
                                     Their courage with hard labour tame and dull, 
                                     That not a horse is half the half of himself. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                     So are the horses of the enemy 
                                     In general, journey-bated and brought low: 
                                     The better part of ours are full of rest. 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                     The number of the king exceedeth ours: 
                                     For God's sake. cousin, stay till all come in. 
                                     [The trumpet sounds a parley] 
                                     [Enter SIR WALTER BLUNT] 
 SIR WALTER BLUNT 
                                     I come with gracious offers from the king, 
                                     if you vouchsafe me hearing and respect. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                     Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt; and would to God 
                                     You were of our determination! 
                                     Some of us love you well; and even those some 
                                     Envy your great deservings and good name, 
                                     Because you are not of our quality, 
                                     But stand against us like an enemy. 
 SIR WALTER BLUNT 
                                     And God defend but still I should stand so, 
                                     So long as out of limit and true rule 
                                     You stand against anointed majesty. 
                                     But to my charge. The king hath sent to know 
                                     The nature of your griefs, and whereupon 
                                     You conjure from the breast of civil peace 
                                     Such bold hostility, teaching his duteous land 
                                     Audacious cruelty. If that the king 
                                     Have any way your good deserts forgot, 
                                     Which he confesseth to be manifold, 
                                     He bids you name your griefs; and with all speed 
                                     You shall have your desires with interest 
                                     And pardon absolute for yourself and these 
                                     Herein misled by your suggestion. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                     The king is kind; and well we know the king 
                                     Knows at what time to promise, when to pay. 
                                     My father and my uncle and myself 
                                     Did give him that same royalty he wears; 
                                     And when he was not six and twenty strong, 
                                     Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low, 
                                     A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home, 
                                     My father gave him welcome to the shore; 
                                     And when he heard him swear and vow to God 
                                     He came but to be Duke of Lancaster, 
                                     To sue his livery and beg his peace, 
                                     With tears of innocency and terms of zeal, 
                                     My father, in kind heart and pity moved, 
                                     Swore him assistance and perform'd it too. 
                                     Now when the lords and barons of the realm 
                                     Perceived Northumberland did lean to him, 
                                     The more and less came in with cap and knee; 
                                     Met him in boroughs, cities, villages, 
                                     Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes, 
                                     Laid gifts before him, proffer'd him their oaths, 
                                     Gave him their heirs, as pages follow'd him 
                                     Even at the heels in golden multitudes. 
                                     He presently, as greatness knows itself, 
                                     Steps me a little higher than his vow 
                                     Made to my father, while his blood was poor, 
                                     Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurgh; 
                                     And now, forsooth, takes on him to reform 
                                     Some certain edicts and some strait decrees 
                                     That lie too heavy on the commonwealth, 
                                     Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep 
                                     Over his country's wrongs; and by this face, 
                                     This seeming brow of justice, did he win 
                                     The hearts of all that he did angle for; 
                                     Proceeded further; cut me off the heads 
                                     Of all the favourites that the absent king 
                                     In deputation left behind him here, 
                                     When he was personal in the Irish war. 
 SIR WALTER BLUNT 
                                     Tut, I came not to hear this. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                     Then to the point. 
                                     In short time after, he deposed the king; 
                                     Soon after that, deprived him of his life; 
                                     And in the neck of that, task'd the whole state: 
                                     To make that worse, suffer'd his kinsman March, 
                                     Who is, if every owner were well placed, 
                                     Indeed his king, to be engaged in Wales, 
                                     There without ransom to lie forfeited; 
                                     Disgraced me in my happy victories, 
                                     Sought to entrap me by intelligence; 
                                     Rated mine uncle from the council-board; 
                                     In rage dismiss'd my father from the court; 
                                     Broke oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong, 
                                     And in conclusion drove us to seek out 
                                     This head of safety; and withal to pry 
                                     Into his title, the which we find 
                                     Too indirect for long continuance. 
 SIR WALTER BLUNT 
                                     Shall I return this answer to the king? 
 HOTSPUR 
                                     Not so, Sir Walter: we'll withdraw awhile. 
                                     Go to the king; and let there be impawn'd 
                                     Some surety for a safe return again, 
                                     And in the morning early shall my uncle 
                                     Bring him our purposes: and so farewell. 
 SIR WALTER BLUNT 
                                     I would you would accept of grace and love. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                     And may be so we shall. 
 SIR WALTER BLUNT 
                                     Pray God you do. 
                                     [Exeunt] 



Scene IV York. The ARCHBISHOP'S palace.

                                         [Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK and SIR MICHAEL] 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                         Hie, good Sir Michael; bear this sealed brief 
                                         With winged haste to the lord marshal; 
                                         This to my cousin Scroop, and all the rest 
                                         To whom they are directed. If you knew 
                                         How much they do to import, you would make haste. 
 SIR MICHAEL 
                                         My good lord, 
                                         I guess their tenor. 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                         Like enough you do. 
                                         To-morrow, good Sir Michael, is a day 
                                         Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men 
                                         Must bide the touch; for, sir, at Shrewsbury, 
                                         As I am truly given to understand, 
                                         The king with mighty and quick-raised power 
                                         Meets with Lord Harry: and, I fear, Sir Michael, 
                                         What with the sickness of Northumberland, 
                                         Whose power was in the first proportion, 
                                         And what with Owen Glendower's absence thence, 
                                         Who with them was a rated sinew too 
                                         And comes not in, o'er-ruled by prophecies, 
                                         I fear the power of Percy is too weak 
                                         To wage an instant trial with the king. 
 SIR MICHAEL 
                                         Why, my good lord, you need not fear; 
                                         There is Douglas and Lord Mortimer. 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                         No, Mortimer is not there. 
 SIR MICHAEL 
                                         But there is Mordake, Vernon, Lord Harry Percy, 
                                         And there is my Lord of Worcester and a head 
                                         Of gallant warriors, noble gentlemen. 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                         And so there is: but yet the king hath drawn 
                                         The special head of all the land together: 
                                         The Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster, 
                                         The noble Westmoreland and warlike Blunt; 
                                         And moe corrivals and dear men 
                                         Of estimation and command in arms. 
 SIR MICHAEL 
                                         Doubt not, my lord, they shall be well opposed. 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                         I hope no less, yet needful 'tis to fear; 
                                         And, to prevent the worst, Sir Michael, speed: 
                                         For if Lord Percy thrive not, ere the king 
                                         Dismiss his power, he means to visit us, 
                                         For he hath heard of our confederacy, 
                                         And 'tis but wisdom to make strong against him: 
                                         Therefore make haste. I must go write again 
                                         To other friends; and so farewell, Sir Michael. 
                                         [Exeunt] 


Act V

Scene I KING HENRY IV's camp near Shrewsbury.

                                  [Enter KING HENRY, PRINCE HENRY, Lord John of 
                                  LANCASTER, EARL OF WESTMORELAND, SIR WALTER BLUNT, 
                                  and FALSTAFF] 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                  How bloodily the sun begins to peer 
                                  Above yon busky hill! the day looks pale 
                                  At his distemperature. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                  The southern wind 
                                  Doth play the trumpet to his purposes, 
                                  And by his hollow whistling in the leaves 
                                  Foretells a tempest and a blustering day. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                  Then with the losers let it sympathize, 
                                  For nothing can seem foul to those that win. 
                                  [The trumpet sounds] 
                                  [Enter WORCESTER and VERNON] 
                                  How now, my Lord of Worcester! 'tis not well 
                                  That you and I should meet upon such terms 
                                  As now we meet. You have deceived our trust, 
                                  And made us doff our easy robes of peace, 
                                  To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel: 
                                  This is not well, my lord, this is not well. 
                                  What say you to it? will you again unknit 
                                  This curlish knot of all-abhorred war? 
                                  And move in that obedient orb again 
                                  Where you did give a fair and natural light, 
                                  And be no more an exhaled meteor, 
                                  A prodigy of fear and a portent 
                                  Of broached mischief to the unborn times? 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                  Hear me, my liege: 
                                  For mine own part, I could be well content 
                                  To entertain the lag-end of my life 
                                  With quiet hours; for I do protest, 
                                  I have not sought the day of this dislike. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                  You have not sought it! how comes it, then? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                  Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                  Peace, chewet, peace! 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                  It pleased your majesty to turn your looks 
                                  Of favour from myself and all our house; 
                                  And yet I must remember you, my lord, 
                                  We were the first and dearest of your friends. 
                                  For you my staff of office did I break 
                                  In Richard's time; and posted day and night 
                                  to meet you on the way, and kiss your hand, 
                                  When yet you were in place and in account 
                                  Nothing so strong and fortunate as I. 
                                  It was myself, my brother and his son, 
                                  That brought you home and boldly did outdare 
                                  The dangers of the time. You swore to us, 
                                  And you did swear that oath at Doncaster, 
                                  That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state; 
                                  Nor claim no further than your new-fall'n right, 
                                  The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster: 
                                  To this we swore our aid. But in short space 
                                  It rain'd down fortune showering on your head; 
                                  And such a flood of greatness fell on you, 
                                  What with our help, what with the absent king, 
                                  What with the injuries of a wanton time, 
                                  The seeming sufferances that you had borne, 
                                  And the contrarious winds that held the king 
                                  So long in his unlucky Irish wars 
                                  That all in England did repute him dead: 
                                  And from this swarm of fair advantages 
                                  You took occasion to be quickly woo'd 
                                  To gripe the general sway into your hand; 
                                  Forget your oath to us at Doncaster; 
                                  And being fed by us you used us so 
                                  As that ungentle hull, the cuckoo's bird, 
                                  Useth the sparrow; did oppress our nest; 
                                  Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk 
                                  That even our love durst not come near your sight 
                                  For fear of swallowing; but with nimble wing 
                                  We were enforced, for safety sake, to fly 
                                  Out of sight and raise this present head; 
                                  Whereby we stand opposed by such means 
                                  As you yourself have forged against yourself 
                                  By unkind usage, dangerous countenance, 
                                  And violation of all faith and troth 
                                  Sworn to us in your younger enterprise. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                  These things indeed you have articulate, 
                                  Proclaim'd at market-crosses, read in churches, 
                                  To face the garment of rebellion 
                                  With some fine colour that may please the eye 
                                  Of fickle changelings and poor discontents, 
                                  Which gape and rub the elbow at the news 
                                  Of hurlyburly innovation: 
                                  And never yet did insurrection want 
                                  Such water-colours to impaint his cause; 
                                  Nor moody beggars, starving for a time 
                                  Of pellmell havoc and confusion. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                  In both your armies there is many a soul 
                                  Shall pay full dearly for this encounter, 
                                  If once they join in trial. Tell your nephew, 
                                  The Prince of Wales doth join with all the world 
                                  In praise of Henry Percy: by my hopes, 
                                  This present enterprise set off his head, 
                                  I do not think a braver gentleman, 
                                  More active-valiant or more valiant-young, 
                                  More daring or more bold, is now alive 
                                  To grace this latter age with noble deeds. 
                                  For my part, I may speak it to my shame, 
                                  I have a truant been to chivalry; 
                                  And so I hear he doth account me too; 
                                  Yet this before my father's majesty-- 
                                  I am content that he shall take the odds 
                                  Of his great name and estimation, 
                                  And will, to save the blood on either side, 
                                  Try fortune with him in a single fight. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                  And, Prince of Wales, so dare we venture thee, 
                                  Albeit considerations infinite 
                                  Do make against it. No, good Worcester, no, 
                                  We love our people well; even those we love 
                                  That are misled upon your cousin's part; 
                                  And, will they take the offer of our grace, 
                                  Both he and they and you, every man 
                                  Shall be my friend again and I'll be his: 
                                  So tell your cousin, and bring me word 
                                  What he will do: but if he will not yield, 
                                  Rebuke and dread correction wait on us 
                                  And they shall do their office. So, be gone; 
                                  We will not now be troubled with reply: 
                                  We offer fair; take it advisedly. 
                                  [Exeunt WORCESTER and VERNON] 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                  It will not be accepted, on my life: 
                                  The Douglas and the Hotspur both together 
                                  Are confident against the world in arms. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                  Hence, therefore, every leader to his charge; 
                                  For, on their answer, will we set on them: 
                                  And God befriend us, as our cause is just! 
                                  [Exeunt all but PRINCE HENRY and FALSTAFF] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                  Hal, if thou see me down in the battle and bestride 
                                  me, so; 'tis a point of friendship. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                  Nothing but a colossus can do thee that friendship. 
                                  Say thy prayers, and farewell. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                  I would 'twere bed-time, Hal, and all well. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                  Why, thou owest God a death. 
                                  [Exit PRINCE HENRY] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                  'Tis not due yet; I would be loath to pay him before 
                                  his day. What need I be so forward with him that 
                                  calls not on me? Well, 'tis no matter; honour pricks 
                                  me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I 
                                  come on? how then? Can honour set to a leg? no: or 
                                  an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no. 
                                  Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? no. What is 
                                  honour? a word. What is in that word honour? what 
                                  is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? 
                                  he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. 
                                  Doth he hear it? no. 'Tis insensible, then. Yea, 
                                  to the dead. But will it not live with the living? 
                                  no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. Therefore 
                                  I'll none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon: and so 
                                  ends my catechism. 
                                  [Exit] 



Scene II The rebel camp.

                                            [Enter WORCESTER and VERNON] 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                            O, no, my nephew must not know, Sir Richard, 
                                            The liberal and kind offer of the king. 
 VERNON 
                                            'Twere best he did. 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                            Then are we all undone. 
                                            It is not possible, it cannot be, 
                                            The king should keep his word in loving us; 
                                            He will suspect us still and find a time 
                                            To punish this offence in other faults: 
                                            Suspicion all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes; 
                                            For treason is but trusted like the fox, 
                                            Who, ne'er so tame, so cherish'd and lock'd up, 
                                            Will have a wild trick of his ancestors. 
                                            Look how we can, or sad or merrily, 
                                            Interpretation will misquote our looks, 
                                            And we shall feed like oxen at a stall, 
                                            The better cherish'd, still the nearer death. 
                                            My nephew's trespass may be well forgot; 
                                            it hath the excuse of youth and heat of blood, 
                                            And an adopted name of privilege, 
                                            A hair-brain'd Hotspur, govern'd by a spleen: 
                                            All his offences live upon my head 
                                            And on his father's; we did train him on, 
                                            And, his corruption being ta'en from us, 
                                            We, as the spring of all, shall pay for all. 
                                            Therefore, good cousin, let not Harry know, 
                                            In any case, the offer of the king. 
 VERNON 
                                            Deliver what you will; I'll say 'tis so. 
                                            Here comes your cousin. 
                                            [Enter HOTSPUR and DOUGLAS] 
 HOTSPUR 
                                            My uncle is return'd: 
                                            Deliver up my Lord of Westmoreland. 
                                            Uncle, what news? 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                            The king will bid you battle presently. 
 EARL OF DOUGLAS 
                                            Defy him by the Lord of Westmoreland. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                            Lord Douglas, go you and tell him so. 
 EARL OF DOUGLAS 
                                            Marry, and shall, and very willingly. 
                                            [Exit] 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                            There is no seeming mercy in the king. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                            Did you beg any? God forbid! 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                            I told him gently of our grievances, 
                                            Of his oath-breaking; which he mended thus, 
                                            By now forswearing that he is forsworn: 
                                            He calls us rebels, traitors; and will scourge 
                                            With haughty arms this hateful name in us. 
                                            [Re-enter the EARL OF DOUGLAS] 
 EARL OF DOUGLAS 
                                            Arm, gentlemen; to arms! for I have thrown 
                                            A brave defiance in King Henry's teeth, 
                                            And Westmoreland, that was engaged, did bear it; 
                                            Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on. 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                            The Prince of Wales stepp'd forth before the king, 
                                            And, nephew, challenged you to single fight. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                            O, would the quarrel lay upon our heads, 
                                            And that no man might draw short breath today 
                                            But I and Harry Monmouth! Tell me, tell me, 
                                            How show'd his tasking? seem'd it in contempt? 
 VERNON 
                                            No, by my soul; I never in my life 
                                            Did hear a challenge urged more modestly, 
                                            Unless a brother should a brother dare 
                                            To gentle exercise and proof of arms. 
                                            He gave you all the duties of a man; 
                                            Trimm'd up your praises with a princely tongue, 
                                            Spoke to your deservings like a chronicle, 
                                            Making you ever better than his praise 
                                            By still dispraising praise valued in you; 
                                            And, which became him like a prince indeed, 
                                            He made a blushing cital of himself; 
                                            And chid his truant youth with such a grace 
                                            As if he master'd there a double spirit. 
                                            Of teaching and of learning instantly. 
                                            There did he pause: but let me tell the world, 
                                            If he outlive the envy of this day, 
                                            England did never owe so sweet a hope, 
                                            So much misconstrued in his wantonness. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                            Cousin, I think thou art enamoured 
                                            On his follies: never did I hear 
                                            Of any prince so wild a libertine. 
                                            But be he as he will, yet once ere night 
                                            I will embrace him with a soldier's arm, 
                                            That he shall shrink under my courtesy. 
                                            Arm, arm with speed: and, fellows, soldiers, friends, 
                                            Better consider what you have to do 
                                            Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue, 
                                            Can lift your blood up with persuasion. 
                                            [Enter a Messenger] 
 Messenger 
                                            My lord, here are letters for you. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                            I cannot read them now. 
                                            O gentlemen, the time of life is short! 
                                            To spend that shortness basely were too long, 
                                            If life did ride upon a dial's point, 
                                            Still ending at the arrival of an hour. 
                                            An if we live, we live to tread on kings; 
                                            If die, brave death, when princes die with us! 
                                            Now, for our consciences, the arms are fair, 
                                            When the intent of bearing them is just. 
                                            [Enter another Messenger] 
 Messenger 
                                            My lord, prepare; the king comes on apace. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                            I thank him, that he cuts me from my tale, 
                                            For I profess not talking; only this-- 
                                            Let each man do his best: and here draw I 
                                            A sword, whose temper I intend to stain 
                                            With the best blood that I can meet withal 
                                            In the adventure of this perilous day. 
                                            Now, Esperance! Percy! and set on. 
                                            Sound all the lofty instruments of war, 
                                            And by that music let us all embrace; 
                                            For, heaven to earth, some of us never shall 
                                            A second time do such a courtesy. 
                                            [The trumpets sound. They embrace, and exeunt] 



Scene III Plain between the camps.

                                     [KING HENRY enters with his power. Alarum to the 
                                     battle. Then enter DOUGLAS and SIR WALTER BLUNT] 
 SIR WALTER BLUNT 
                                     What is thy name, that in the battle thus 
                                     Thou crossest me? what honour dost thou seek 
                                     Upon my head? 
 EARL OF DOUGLAS 
                                     Know then, my name is Douglas; 
                                     And I do haunt thee in the battle thus 
                                     Because some tell me that thou art a king. 
 SIR WALTER BLUNT 
                                     They tell thee true. 
 EARL OF DOUGLAS 
                                     The Lord of Stafford dear to-day hath bought 
                                     Thy likeness, for instead of thee, King Harry, 
                                     This sword hath ended him: so shall it thee, 
                                     Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner. 
 SIR WALTER BLUNT 
                                     I was not born a yielder, thou proud Scot; 
                                     And thou shalt find a king that will revenge 
                                     Lord Stafford's death. 
                                     [They fight. DOUGLAS kills SIR WALTER BLUNT. 
                                     Enter HOTSPUR] 
 HOTSPUR 
                                     O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus, 
                                     never had triumph'd upon a Scot. 
 EARL OF DOUGLAS 
                                     All's done, all's won; here breathless lies the king. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                     Where? 
 EARL OF DOUGLAS 
                                     Here. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                     This, Douglas? no: I know this face full well: 
                                     A gallant knight he was, his name was Blunt; 
                                     Semblably furnish'd like the king himself. 
 EARL OF DOUGLAS 
                                     A fool go with thy soul, whither it goes! 
                                     A borrow'd title hast thou bought too dear: 
                                     Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king? 
 HOTSPUR 
                                     The king hath many marching in his coats. 
 EARL OF DOUGLAS 
                                     Now, by my sword, I will kill all his coats; 
                                     I'll murder all his wardrobe, piece by piece, 
                                     Until I meet the king. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                     Up, and away! 
                                     Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day. 
                                     [Exeunt] 
                                     [Alarum. Enter FALSTAFF, solus] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                     Though I could 'scape shot-free at London, I fear 
                                     the shot here; here's no scoring but upon the pate. 
                                     Soft! who are you? Sir Walter Blunt: there's honour 
                                     for you! here's no vanity! I am as hot as moulten 
                                     lead, and as heavy too: God keep lead out of me! I 
                                     need no more weight than mine own bowels. I have 
                                     led my ragamuffins where they are peppered: there's 
                                     not three of my hundred and fifty left alive; and 
                                     they are for the town's end, to beg during life. 
                                     But who comes here? 
                                     [Enter PRINCE HENRY] 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                     What, stand'st thou idle here? lend me thy sword: 
                                     Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff 
                                     Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies, 
                                     Whose deaths are yet unrevenged: I prithee, 
                                     lend me thy sword. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                     O Hal, I prithee, give me leave to breathe awhile. 
                                     Turk Gregory never did such deeds in arms as I have 
                                     done this day. I have paid Percy, I have made him sure. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                     He is, indeed; and living to kill thee. I prithee, 
                                     lend me thy sword. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                     Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou get'st 
                                     not my sword; but take my pistol, if thou wilt. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                     Give it to me: what, is it in the case? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                     Ay, Hal; 'tis hot, 'tis hot; there's that will sack a city. 
                                     [PRINCE HENRY draws it out, and finds it to be a 
                                     bottle of sack] 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                     What, is it a time to jest and dally now? 
                                     [He throws the bottle at him. Exit] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                     Well, if Percy be alive, I'll pierce him. If he do 
                                     come in my way, so: if he do not, if I come in his 
                                     willingly, let him make a carbonado of me. I like 
                                     not such grinning honour as Sir Walter hath: give me 
                                     life: which if I can save, so; if not, honour comes 
                                     unlooked for, and there's an end. 
                                     [Exit FALSTAFF] 



Scene IV Another part of the field.

                                 [Alarum. Excursions. Enter PRINCE HENRY, LORD JOHN 
                                 OF LANCASTER, and EARL OF WESTMORELAND] 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                 I prithee, 
                                 Harry, withdraw thyself; thou bleed'st too much. 
                                 Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him. 
 LANCASTER 
                                 Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                 I beseech your majesty, make up, 
                                 Lest your retirement do amaze your friends. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                 I will do so. 
                                 My Lord of Westmoreland, lead him to his tent. 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                 Come, my lord, I'll lead you to your tent. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                 Lead me, my lord? I do not need your help: 
                                 And God forbid a shallow scratch should drive 
                                 The Prince of Wales from such a field as this, 
                                 Where stain'd nobility lies trodden on, 
                                 and rebels' arms triumph in massacres! 
 LANCASTER 
                                 We breathe too long: come, cousin Westmoreland, 
                                 Our duty this way lies; for God's sake come. 
                                 [Exeunt LANCASTER and WESTMORELAND] 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                 By God, thou hast deceived me, Lancaster; 
                                 I did not think thee lord of such a spirit: 
                                 Before, I loved thee as a brother, John; 
                                 But now, I do respect thee as my soul. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                 I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point 
                                 With lustier maintenance than I did look for 
                                 Of such an ungrown warrior. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                 O, this boy 
                                 Lends mettle to us all! 
                                 [Exit] 
                                 [Enter DOUGLAS] 
 EARL OF DOUGLAS 
                                 Another king! they grow like Hydra's heads: 
                                 I am the Douglas, fatal to all those 
                                 That wear those colours on them: what art thou, 
                                 That counterfeit'st the person of a king? 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                 The king himself; who, Douglas, grieves at heart 
                                 So many of his shadows thou hast met 
                                 And not the very king. I have two boys 
                                 Seek Percy and thyself about the field: 
                                 But, seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily, 
                                 I will assay thee: so, defend thyself. 
 EARL OF DOUGLAS 
                                 I fear thou art another counterfeit; 
                                 And yet, in faith, thou bear'st thee like a king: 
                                 But mine I am sure thou art, whoe'er thou be, 
                                 And thus I win thee. 
                                 [They fight. KING HENRY being in danger, PRINCE 
                                 HENRY enters] 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                 Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art like 
                                 Never to hold it up again! the spirits 
                                 Of valiant Shirley, Stafford, Blunt, are in my arms: 
                                 It is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee; 
                                 Who never promiseth but he means to pay. 
                                 [They fight: DOUGLAS flies] 
                                 Cheerly, my lord how fares your grace? 
                                 Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succor sent, 
                                 And so hath Clifton: I'll to Clifton straight. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                 Stay, and breathe awhile: 
                                 Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion, 
                                 And show'd thou makest some tender of my life, 
                                 In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                 O God! they did me too much injury 
                                 That ever said I hearken'd for your death. 
                                 If it were so, I might have let alone 
                                 The insulting hand of Douglas over you, 
                                 Which would have been as speedy in your end 
                                 As all the poisonous potions in the world 
                                 And saved the treacherous labour of your son. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                 Make up to Clifton: I'll to Sir Nicholas Gawsey. 
                                 [Exit] 
                                 [Enter HOTSPUR] 
 HOTSPUR 
                                 If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                 Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                 My name is Harry Percy. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                 Why, then I see 
                                 A very valiant rebel of the name. 
                                 I am the Prince of Wales; and think not, Percy, 
                                 To share with me in glory any more: 
                                 Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere; 
                                 Nor can one England brook a double reign, 
                                 Of Harry Percy and the Prince of Wales. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                 Nor shall it, Harry; for the hour is come 
                                 To end the one of us; and would to God 
                                 Thy name in arms were now as great as mine! 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                 I'll make it greater ere I part from thee; 
                                 And all the budding honours on thy crest 
                                 I'll crop, to make a garland for my head. 
 HOTSPUR 
                                 I can no longer brook thy vanities. 
                                 [They fight] 
                                 [Enter FALSTAFF] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 Well said, Hal! to it Hal! Nay, you shall find no 
                                 boy's play here, I can tell you. 
                                 [Re-enter DOUGLAS; he fights with FALSTAFF, 
                                 who falls down as if he were dead, and exit 
                                 DOUGLAS. HOTSPUR is wounded, and falls] 
 HOTSPUR 
                                 O, Harry, thou hast robb'd me of my youth! 
                                 I better brook the loss of brittle life 
                                 Than those proud titles thou hast won of me; 
                                 They wound my thoughts worse than sword my flesh: 
                                 But thought's the slave of life, and life time's fool; 
                                 And time, that takes survey of all the world, 
                                 Must have a stop. O, I could prophesy, 
                                 But that the earthy and cold hand of death 
                                 Lies on my tongue: no, Percy, thou art dust 
                                 And food for-- 
                                 [Dies] 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                 For worms, brave Percy: fare thee well, great heart! 
                                 Ill-weaved ambition, how much art thou shrunk! 
                                 When that this body did contain a spirit, 
                                 A kingdom for it was too small a bound; 
                                 But now two paces of the vilest earth 
                                 Is room enough: this earth that bears thee dead 
                                 Bears not alive so stout a gentleman. 
                                 If thou wert sensible of courtesy, 
                                 I should not make so dear a show of zeal: 
                                 But let my favours hide thy mangled face; 
                                 And, even in thy behalf, I'll thank myself 
                                 For doing these fair rites of tenderness. 
                                 Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven! 
                                 Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave, 
                                 But not remember'd in thy epitaph! 
                                 [He spieth FALSTAFF on the ground] 
                                 What, old acquaintance! could not all this flesh 
                                 Keep in a little life? Poor Jack, farewell! 
                                 I could have better spared a better man: 
                                 O, I should have a heavy miss of thee, 
                                 If I were much in love with vanity! 
                                 Death hath not struck so fat a deer to-day, 
                                 Though many dearer, in this bloody fray. 
                                 Embowell'd will I see thee by and by: 
                                 Till then in blood by noble Percy lie. 
                                 [Exit PRINCE HENRY] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 [Rising up] Embowelled! if thou embowel me to-day, 
                                 I'll give you leave to powder me and eat me too 
                                 to-morrow. 'Sblood,'twas time to counterfeit, or 
                                 that hot termagant Scot had paid me scot and lot too. 
                                 Counterfeit? I lie, I am no counterfeit: to die, 
                                 is to be a counterfeit; for he is but the 
                                 counterfeit of a man who hath not the life of a man: 
                                 but to counterfeit dying, when a man thereby 
                                 liveth, is to be no counterfeit, but the true and 
                                 perfect image of life indeed. The better part of 
                                 valour is discretion; in the which better part I 
                                 have saved my life.'Zounds, I am afraid of this 
                                 gunpowder Percy, though he be dead: how, if he 
                                 should counterfeit too and rise? by my faith, I am 
                                 afraid he would prove the better counterfeit. 
                                 Therefore I'll make him sure; yea, and I'll swear I 
                                 killed him. Why may not he rise as well as I? 
                                 Nothing confutes me but eyes, and nobody sees me. 
                                 Therefore, sirrah, 
                                 [Stabbing him] 
                                 with a new wound in your thigh, come you along with me. 
                                 [Takes up HOTSPUR on his back] 
                                 [Re-enter PRINCE HENRY and LORD JOHN OF LANCASTER] 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                 Come, brother John; full bravely hast thou flesh'd 
                                 Thy maiden sword. 
 LANCASTER 
                                 But, soft! whom have we here? 
                                 Did you not tell me this fat man was dead? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                 I did; I saw him dead, 
                                 Breathless and bleeding on the ground. Art 
                                 thou alive? 
                                 Or is it fantasy that plays upon our eyesight? 
                                 I prithee, speak; we will not trust our eyes 
                                 Without our ears: thou art not what thou seem'st. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 No, that's certain; I am not a double man: but if I 
                                 be not Jack Falstaff, then am I a Jack. There is Percy: 
                                 [Throwing the body down] 
                                 if your father will do me any honour, so; if not, let 
                                 him kill the next Percy himself. I look to be either 
                                 earl or duke, I can assure you. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                 Why, Percy I killed myself and saw thee dead. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 Didst thou? Lord, Lord, how this world is given to 
                                 lying! I grant you I was down and out of breath; 
                                 and so was he: but we rose both at an instant and 
                                 fought a long hour by Shrewsbury clock. If I may be 
                                 believed, so; if not, let them that should reward 
                                 valour bear the sin upon their own heads. I'll take 
                                 it upon my death, I gave him this wound in the 
                                 thigh: if the man were alive and would deny it, 
                                 'zounds, I would make him eat a piece of my sword. 
 LANCASTER 
                                 This is the strangest tale that ever I heard. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                 This is the strangest fellow, brother John. 
                                 Come, bring your luggage nobly on your back: 
                                 For my part, if a lie may do thee grace, 
                                 I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have. 
                                 [A retreat is sounded] 
                                 The trumpet sounds retreat; the day is ours. 
                                 Come, brother, let us to the highest of the field, 
                                 To see what friends are living, who are dead. 
                                 [Exeunt PRINCE HENRY and LANCASTER] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 I'll follow, as they say, for reward. He that 
                                 rewards me, God reward him! If I do grow great, 
                                 I'll grow less; for I'll purge, and leave sack, and 
                                 live cleanly as a nobleman should do. 
                                 [Exit] 



Scene V Another part of the field.

                                  [The trumpets sound. Enter KING HENRY IV, PRINCE 
                                  HENRY, LORD JOHN LANCASTER, EARL OF WESTMORELAND, 
                                  with WORCESTER and VERNON prisoners] 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                  Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke. 
                                  Ill-spirited Worcester! did not we send grace, 
                                  Pardon and terms of love to all of you? 
                                  And wouldst thou turn our offers contrary? 
                                  Misuse the tenor of thy kinsman's trust? 
                                  Three knights upon our party slain to-day, 
                                  A noble earl and many a creature else 
                                  Had been alive this hour, 
                                  If like a Christian thou hadst truly borne 
                                  Betwixt our armies true intelligence. 
 EARL OF WORCESTER 
                                  What I have done my safety urged me to; 
                                  And I embrace this fortune patiently, 
                                  Since not to be avoided it falls on me. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                  Bear Worcester to the death and Vernon too: 
                                  Other offenders we will pause upon. 
                                  [Exeunt WORCESTER and VERNON, guarded] 
                                  How goes the field? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                  The noble Scot, Lord Douglas, when he saw 
                                  The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him, 
                                  The noble Percy slain, and all his men 
                                  Upon the foot of fear, fled with the rest; 
                                  And falling from a hill, he was so bruised 
                                  That the pursuers took him. At my tent 
                                  The Douglas is; and I beseech your grace 
                                  I may dispose of him. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                  With all my heart. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                  Then, brother John of Lancaster, to you 
                                  This honourable bounty shall belong: 
                                  Go to the Douglas, and deliver him 
                                  Up to his pleasure, ransomless and free: 
                                  His valour shown upon our crests to-day 
                                  Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds 
                                  Even in the bosom of our adversaries. 
 LANCASTER 
                                  I thank your grace for this high courtesy, 
                                  Which I shall give away immediately. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                  Then this remains, that we divide our power. 
                                  You, son John, and my cousin Westmoreland 
                                  Towards York shall bend you with your dearest speed, 
                                  To meet Northumberland and the prelate Scroop, 
                                  Who, as we hear, are busily in arms: 
                                  Myself and you, son Harry, will towards Wales, 
                                  To fight with Glendower and the Earl of March. 
                                  Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway, 
                                  Meeting the cheque of such another day: 
                                  And since this business so fair is done, 
                                  Let us not leave till all our own be won. 
                                  [Exeunt] 

[back to top]


II King Henry IV

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

 RUMOUR 
                                                               the Presenter. 
 KING HENRY 
                                                               the Fourth. (KING HENRY IV:) 
 PRINCE HENRY 
 OF WALES (PRINCE HENRY:) 
 afterwards KING HENRY V. 

 THOMAS, DUKE OF 
 CLARENCE (CLARENCE:) 

 PRINCE HUMPHREY 
 OF GLOUCESTER (GLOUCESTER:) 
                                                               | 
                                                               | 
                                                               | 
                                                               | 
                                                               | sons of King Henry. 
                                                               | 
                                                               | 
                                                               | 
                                                               | 
 EARL OF WARWICK 
                                                               (WARWICK:) 
 EARL OF 
 WESTMORELAND 

                                                               (WESTMORELAND:) 
 EARL OF SURREY: 
 GOWER: 
 HARCOURT: 
 BLUNT: 
                                                               Lord Chief-Justice of the King's Bench: 
                                                               (Lord Chief-Justice:) 
                                                               A Servant of the Chief-Justice. 
 EARL OF 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 

                                                               (NORTHUMBERLAND:) 
 SCROOP, 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 

                                                               (ARCHBISHOP OF YORK:) 
 LORD MOWBRAY 
                                                               (MOWBRAY:) 
 LORD HASTINGS 
                                                               (HASTINGS:) 
 LORD BARDOLPH: 
 SIR JOHN COLEVILE 
                                                               (COLEVILE:) 
 TRAVERS 

 MORTON 
                                                               | 
                                                               | retainers of Northumberland. 
                                                               | 
 SIR JOHN FALSTAFF 
                                                               (FALSTAFF:) 
                                                               His Page. (Page:) 
 BARDOLPH: 
 PISTOL: 
 POINS: 
 PETO: 
 SHALLOW 

 SILENCE 
                                                               | 
                                                               | country justices. 
                                                               | 
 DAVY 
                                                               servant to Shallow. 
 MOULDY 

 SHADOW 

 WART 

 FEEBLE 

 BULLCALF 
                                                               | 
                                                               | 
                                                               | 
                                                               | 
                                                               | recruits. 
                                                               | 
                                                               | 
                                                               | 
                                                               | 
 FANG 

 SNARE 
                                                               | 
                                                               | sheriff's officers. 
                                                               | 
 LADY 
 NORTHUMBERLAND: 

 LADY PERCY: 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                                               hostess of a tavern in Eastcheap. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET: 
                                                               Lords and Attendants; Porter, Drawers, 
                                                               Beadles, Grooms, &c. 
                                                               (First Messenger:) 
                                                               (Porter:) 
                                                               (First Drawer:) 
                                                               (Second Drawer:) 
                                                               (First Beadle:) 
                                                               (First Groom:) 
                                                               (Second Groom:) 
                                                               A Dancer, speaker of the epilogue. 



Scene

England. 


Induction

                        [Warkworth. Before the castle] 
                        [Enter RUMOUR, painted full of tongues] 
 RUMOUR 
                        Open your ears; for which of you will stop 
                        The vent of hearing when loud Rumour speaks? 
                        I, from the orient to the drooping west, 
                        Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold 
                        The acts commenced on this ball of earth: 
                        Upon my tongues continual slanders ride, 
                        The which in every language I pronounce, 
                        Stuffing the ears of men with false reports. 
                        I speak of peace, while covert enmity 
                        Under the smile of safety wounds the world: 
                        And who but Rumour, who but only I, 
                        Make fearful musters and prepared defence, 
                        Whiles the big year, swoln with some other grief, 
                        Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war, 
                        And no such matter? Rumour is a pipe 
                        Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures 
                        And of so easy and so plain a stop 
                        That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, 
                        The still-discordant wavering multitude, 
                        Can play upon it. But what need I thus 
                        My well-known body to anatomize 
                        Among my household? Why is Rumour here? 
                        I run before King Harry's victory; 
                        Who in a bloody field by Shrewsbury 
                        Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops, 
                        Quenching the flame of bold rebellion 
                        Even with the rebel's blood. But what mean I 
                        To speak so true at first? my office is 
                        To noise abroad that Harry Monmouth fell 
                        Under the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword, 
                        And that the king before the Douglas' rage 
                        Stoop'd his anointed head as low as death. 
                        This have I rumour'd through the peasant towns 
                        Between that royal field of Shrewsbury 
                        And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone, 
                        Where Hotspur's father, old Northumberland, 
                        Lies crafty-sick: the posts come tiring on, 
                        And not a man of them brings other news 
                        Than they have learn'd of me: from Rumour's tongues 
                        They bring smooth comforts false, worse than 
                        true wrongs. 
                        [Exit] 



Act I

Scene I The same.

                                       [Enter LORD BARDOLPH] 
 LORD BARDOLPH 
                                       Who keeps the gate here, ho? 
                                       [The Porter opens the gate] 
                                       Where is the earl? 
 Porter 
                                       What shall I say you are? 
 LORD BARDOLPH 
                                       Tell thou the earl 
                                       That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here. 
 Porter 
                                       His lordship is walk'd forth into the orchard; 
                                       Please it your honour, knock but at the gate, 
                                       And he himself wilt answer. 
                                       [Enter NORTHUMBERLAND] 
 LORD BARDOLPH 
                                       Here comes the earl. 
                                       [Exit Porter] 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                                       What news, Lord Bardolph? every minute now 
                                       Should be the father of some stratagem: 
                                       The times are wild: contention, like a horse 
                                       Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose 
                                       And bears down all before him. 
 LORD BARDOLPH 
                                       Noble earl, 
                                       I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury. 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                                       Good, an God will! 
 LORD BARDOLPH 
                                       As good as heart can wish: 
                                       The king is almost wounded to the death; 
                                       And, in the fortune of my lord your son, 
                                       Prince Harry slain outright; and both the Blunts 
                                       Kill'd by the hand of Douglas; young Prince John 
                                       And Westmoreland and Stafford fled the field; 
                                       And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk Sir John, 
                                       Is prisoner to your son: O, such a day, 
                                       So fought, so follow'd and so fairly won, 
                                       Came not till now to dignify the times, 
                                       Since Caesar's fortunes! 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                                       How is this derived? 
                                       Saw you the field? came you from Shrewsbury? 
 LORD BARDOLPH 
                                       I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence, 
                                       A gentleman well bred and of good name, 
                                       That freely render'd me these news for true. 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                                       Here comes my servant Travers, whom I sent 
                                       On Tuesday last to listen after news. 
                                       [Enter TRAVERS] 
 LORD BARDOLPH 
                                       My lord, I over-rode him on the way; 
                                       And he is furnish'd with no certainties 
                                       More than he haply may retail from me. 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                                       Now, Travers, what good tidings comes with you? 
 TRAVERS 
                                       My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turn'd me back 
                                       With joyful tidings; and, being better horsed, 
                                       Out-rode me. After him came spurring hard 
                                       A gentleman, almost forspent with speed, 
                                       That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse. 
                                       He ask'd the way to Chester; and of him 
                                       I did demand what news from Shrewsbury: 
                                       He told me that rebellion had bad luck 
                                       And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold. 
                                       With that, he gave his able horse the head, 
                                       And bending forward struck his armed heels 
                                       Against the panting sides of his poor jade 
                                       Up to the rowel-head, and starting so 
                                       He seem'd in running to devour the way, 
                                       Staying no longer question. 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                                       Ha! Again: 
                                       Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold? 
                                       Of Hotspur Coldspur? that rebellion 
                                       Had met ill luck? 
 LORD BARDOLPH 
                                       My lord, I'll tell you what; 
                                       If my young lord your son have not the day, 
                                       Upon mine honour, for a silken point 
                                       I'll give my barony: never talk of it. 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                                       Why should that gentleman that rode by Travers 
                                       Give then such instances of loss? 
 LORD BARDOLPH 
                                       Who, he? 
                                       He was some hilding fellow that had stolen 
                                       The horse he rode on, and, upon my life, 
                                       Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news. 
                                       [Enter MORTON] 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                                       Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf, 
                                       Foretells the nature of a tragic volume: 
                                       So looks the strand whereon the imperious flood 
                                       Hath left a witness'd usurpation. 
                                       Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury? 
 MORTON 
                                       I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord; 
                                       Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask 
                                       To fright our party. 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                                       How doth my son and brother? 
                                       Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy cheek 
                                       Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand. 
                                       Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, 
                                       So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone, 
                                       Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, 
                                       And would have told him half his Troy was burnt; 
                                       But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue, 
                                       And I my Percy's death ere thou report'st it. 
                                       This thou wouldst say, 'Your son did thus and thus; 
                                       Your brother thus: so fought the noble Douglas:' 
                                       Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds: 
                                       But in the end, to stop my ear indeed, 
                                       Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise, 
                                       Ending with 'Brother, son, and all are dead.' 
 MORTON 
                                       Douglas is living, and your brother, yet; 
                                       But, for my lord your son-- 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                                       Why, he is dead. 
                                       See what a ready tongue suspicion hath! 
                                       He that but fears the thing he would not know 
                                       Hath by instinct knowledge from others' eyes 
                                       That what he fear'd is chanced. Yet speak, Morton; 
                                       Tell thou an earl his divination lies, 
                                       And I will take it as a sweet disgrace 
                                       And make thee rich for doing me such wrong. 
 MORTON 
                                       You are too great to be by me gainsaid: 
                                       Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain. 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                                       Yet, for all this, say not that Percy's dead. 
                                       I see a strange confession in thine eye: 
                                       Thou shakest thy head and hold'st it fear or sin 
                                       To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so; 
                                       The tongue offends not that reports his death: 
                                       And he doth sin that doth belie the dead, 
                                       Not he which says the dead is not alive. 
                                       Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news 
                                       Hath but a losing office, and his tongue 
                                       Sounds ever after as a sullen bell, 
                                       Remember'd tolling a departing friend. 
 LORD BARDOLPH 
                                       I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead. 
 MORTON 
                                       I am sorry I should force you to believe 
                                       That which I would to God I had not seen; 
                                       But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state, 
                                       Rendering faint quittance, wearied and out-breathed, 
                                       To Harry Monmouth; whose swift wrath beat down 
                                       The never-daunted Percy to the earth, 
                                       From whence with life he never more sprung up. 
                                       In few, his death, whose spirit lent a fire 
                                       Even to the dullest peasant in his camp, 
                                       Being bruited once, took fire and heat away 
                                       From the best temper'd courage in his troops; 
                                       For from his metal was his party steel'd; 
                                       Which once in him abated, all the rest 
                                       Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead: 
                                       And as the thing that's heavy in itself, 
                                       Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed, 
                                       So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss, 
                                       Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear 
                                       That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim 
                                       Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety, 
                                       Fly from the field. Then was the noble Worcester 
                                       Too soon ta'en prisoner; and that furious Scot, 
                                       The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring sword 
                                       Had three times slain the appearance of the king, 
                                       'Gan vail his stomach and did grace the shame 
                                       Of those that turn'd their backs, and in his flight, 
                                       Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all 
                                       Is that the king hath won, and hath sent out 
                                       A speedy power to encounter you, my lord, 
                                       Under the conduct of young Lancaster 
                                       And Westmoreland. This is the news at full. 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                                       For this I shall have time enough to mourn. 
                                       In poison there is physic; and these news, 
                                       Having been well, that would have made me sick, 
                                       Being sick, have in some measure made me well: 
                                       And as the wretch, whose fever-weaken'd joints, 
                                       Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life, 
                                       Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire 
                                       Out of his keeper's arms, even so my limbs, 
                                       Weaken'd with grief, being now enraged with grief, 
                                       Are thrice themselves. Hence, therefore, thou nice crutch! 
                                       A scaly gauntlet now with joints of steel 
                                       Must glove this hand: and hence, thou sickly quoif! 
                                       Thou art a guard too wanton for the head 
                                       Which princes, flesh'd with conquest, aim to hit. 
                                       Now bind my brows with iron; and approach 
                                       The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare bring 
                                       To frown upon the enraged Northumberland! 
                                       Let heaven kiss earth! now let not Nature's hand 
                                       Keep the wild flood confined! let order die! 
                                       And let this world no longer be a stage 
                                       To feed contention in a lingering act; 
                                       But let one spirit of the first-born Cain 
                                       Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set 
                                       On bloody courses, the rude scene may end, 
                                       And darkness be the burier of the dead! 
 TRAVERS 
                                       This strained passion doth you wrong, my lord. 
 LORD BARDOLPH 
                                       Sweet earl, divorce not wisdom from your honour. 
 MORTON 
                                       The lives of all your loving complices 
                                       Lean on your health; the which, if you give o'er 
                                       To stormy passion, must perforce decay. 
                                       You cast the event of war, my noble lord, 
                                       And summ'd the account of chance, before you said 
                                       'Let us make head.' It was your presurmise, 
                                       That, in the dole of blows, your son might drop: 
                                       You knew he walk'd o'er perils, on an edge, 
                                       More likely to fall in than to get o'er; 
                                       You were advised his flesh was capable 
                                       Of wounds and scars and that his forward spirit 
                                       Would lift him where most trade of danger ranged: 
                                       Yet did you say 'Go forth;' and none of this, 
                                       Though strongly apprehended, could restrain 
                                       The stiff-borne action: what hath then befallen, 
                                       Or what hath this bold enterprise brought forth, 
                                       More than that being which was like to be? 
 LORD BARDOLPH 
                                       We all that are engaged to this loss 
                                       Knew that we ventured on such dangerous seas 
                                       That if we wrought our life 'twas ten to one; 
                                       And yet we ventured, for the gain proposed 
                                       Choked the respect of likely peril fear'd; 
                                       And since we are o'erset, venture again. 
                                       Come, we will all put forth, body and goods. 
 MORTON 
                                       'Tis more than time: and, my most noble lord, 
                                       I hear for certain, and do speak the truth, 
                                       The gentle Archbishop of York is up 
                                       With well-appointed powers: he is a man 
                                       Who with a double surety binds his followers. 
                                       My lord your son had only but the corpse, 
                                       But shadows and the shows of men, to fight; 
                                       For that same word, rebellion, did divide 
                                       The action of their bodies from their souls; 
                                       And they did fight with queasiness, constrain'd, 
                                       As men drink potions, that their weapons only 
                                       Seem'd on our side; but, for their spirits and souls, 
                                       This word, rebellion, it had froze them up, 
                                       As fish are in a pond. But now the bishop 
                                       Turns insurrection to religion: 
                                       Supposed sincere and holy in his thoughts, 
                                       He's followed both with body and with mind; 
                                       And doth enlarge his rising with the blood 
                                       Of fair King Richard, scraped from Pomfret stones; 
                                       Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause; 
                                       Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land, 
                                       Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke; 
                                       And more and less do flock to follow him. 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                                       I knew of this before; but, to speak truth, 
                                       This present grief had wiped it from my mind. 
                                       Go in with me; and counsel every man 
                                       The aptest way for safety and revenge: 
                                       Get posts and letters, and make friends with speed: 
                                       Never so few, and never yet more need. 
                                       [Exeunt] 



Scene II London. A street.

                                 [Enter FALSTAFF, with his Page bearing his sword 
                                 and buckler] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my water? 
 Page 
                                 He said, sir, the water itself was a good healthy 
                                 water; but, for the party that owed it, he might 
                                 have more diseases than he knew for. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me: the 
                                 brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not 
                                 able to invent anything that tends to laughter, more 
                                 than I invent or is invented on me: I am not only 
                                 witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other 
                                 men. I do here walk before thee like a sow that 
                                 hath overwhelmed all her litter but one. If the 
                                 prince put thee into my service for any other reason 
                                 than to set me off, why then I have no judgment. 
                                 Thou whoreson mandrake, thou art fitter to be worn 
                                 in my cap than to wait at my heels. I was never 
                                 manned with an agate till now: but I will inset you 
                                 neither in gold nor silver, but in vile apparel, and 
                                 send you back again to your master, for a jewel,-- 
                                 the juvenal, the prince your master, whose chin is 
                                 not yet fledged. I will sooner have a beard grow in 
                                 the palm of my hand than he shall get one on his 
                                 cheek; and yet he will not stick to say his face is 
                                 a face-royal: God may finish it when he will, 'tis 
                                 not a hair amiss yet: he may keep it still at a 
                                 face-royal, for a barber shall never earn sixpence 
                                 out of it; and yet he'll be crowing as if he had 
                                 writ man ever since his father was a bachelor. He 
                                 may keep his own grace, but he's almost out of mine, 
                                 I can assure him. What said Master Dombledon about 
                                 the satin for my short cloak and my slops? 
 Page 
                                 He said, sir, you should procure him better 
                                 assurance than Bardolph: he would not take his 
                                 band and yours; he liked not the security. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 Let him be damned, like the glutton! pray God his 
                                 tongue be hotter! A whoreson Achitophel! a rascally 
                                 yea-forsooth knave! to bear a gentleman in hand, 
                                 and then stand upon security! The whoreson 
                                 smooth-pates do now wear nothing but high shoes, and 
                                 bunches of keys at their girdles; and if a man is 
                                 through with them in honest taking up, then they 
                                 must stand upon security. I had as lief they would 
                                 put ratsbane in my mouth as offer to stop it with 
                                 security. I looked a' should have sent me two and 
                                 twenty yards of satin, as I am a true knight, and he 
                                 sends me security. Well, he may sleep in security; 
                                 for he hath the horn of abundance, and the lightness 
                                 of his wife shines through it: and yet cannot he 
                                 see, though he have his own lanthorn to light him. 
                                 Where's Bardolph? 
 Page 
                                 He's gone into Smithfield to buy your worship a horse. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy me a horse in 
                                 Smithfield: an I could get me but a wife in the 
                                 stews, I were manned, horsed, and wived. 
                                 [Enter the Lord Chief-Justice and Servant] 
 Page 
                                 Sir, here comes the nobleman that committed the 
                                 Prince for striking him about Bardolph. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 Wait, close; I will not see him. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 What's he that goes there? 
 Servant 
                                 Falstaff, an't please your lordship. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 He that was in question for the robbery? 
 Servant 
                                 He, my lord: but he hath since done good service at 
                                 Shrewsbury; and, as I hear, is now going with some 
                                 charge to the Lord John of Lancaster. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 What, to York? Call him back again. 
 Servant 
                                 Sir John Falstaff! 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 Boy, tell him I am deaf. 
 Page 
                                 You must speak louder; my master is deaf. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 I am sure he is, to the hearing of any thing good. 
                                 Go, pluck him by the elbow; I must speak with him. 
 Servant 
                                 Sir John! 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 What! a young knave, and begging! Is there not 
                                 wars? is there not employment? doth not the king 
                                 lack subjects? do not the rebels need soldiers? 
                                 Though it be a shame to be on any side but one, it 
                                 is worse shame to beg than to be on the worst side, 
                                 were it worse than the name of rebellion can tell 
                                 how to make it. 
 Servant 
                                 You mistake me, sir. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 Why, sir, did I say you were an honest man? setting 
                                 my knighthood and my soldiership aside, I had lied 
                                 in my throat, if I had said so. 
 Servant 
                                 I pray you, sir, then set your knighthood and our 
                                 soldiership aside; and give me leave to tell you, 
                                 you lie in your throat, if you say I am any other 
                                 than an honest man. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 I give thee leave to tell me so! I lay aside that 
                                 which grows to me! if thou gettest any leave of me, 
                                 hang me; if thou takest leave, thou wert better be 
                                 hanged. You hunt counter: hence! avaunt! 
 Servant 
                                 Sir, my lord would speak with you. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 Sir John Falstaff, a word with you. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 My good lord! God give your lordship good time of 
                                 day. I am glad to see your lordship abroad: I heard 
                                 say your lordship was sick: I hope your lordship 
                                 goes abroad by advice. Your lordship, though not 
                                 clean past your youth, hath yet some smack of age in 
                                 you, some relish of the saltness of time; and I must 
                                 humbly beseech your lordship to have a reverent care 
                                 of your health. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 Sir John, I sent for you before your expedition to 
                                 Shrewsbury. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 An't please your lordship, I hear his majesty is 
                                 returned with some discomfort from Wales. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 I talk not of his majesty: you would not come when 
                                 I sent for you. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 And I hear, moreover, his highness is fallen into 
                                 this same whoreson apoplexy. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 Well, God mend him! I pray you, let me speak with 
                                 you. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 This apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of lethargy, 
                                 an't please your lordship; a kind of sleeping in the 
                                 blood, a whoreson tingling. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 What tell you me of it? be it as it is. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 It hath its original from much grief, from study and 
                                 perturbation of the brain: I have read the cause of 
                                 his effects in Galen: it is a kind of deafness. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 I think you are fallen into the disease; for you 
                                 hear not what I say to you. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 Very well, my lord, very well: rather, an't please 
                                 you, it is the disease of not listening, the malady 
                                 of not marking, that I am troubled withal. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 To punish you by the heels would amend the 
                                 attention of your ears; and I care not if I do 
                                 become your physician. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 I am as poor as Job, my lord, but not so patient: 
                                 your lordship may minister the potion of 
                                 imprisonment to me in respect of poverty; but how 
                                 should I be your patient to follow your 
                                 prescriptions, the wise may make some dram of a 
                                 scruple, or indeed a scruple itself. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 I sent for you, when there were matters against you 
                                 for your life, to come speak with me. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 As I was then advised by my learned counsel in the 
                                 laws of this land-service, I did not come. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 Well, the truth is, Sir John, you live in great infamy. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 He that buckles him in my belt cannot live in less. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 Your means are very slender, and your waste is great. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 I would it were otherwise; I would my means were 
                                 greater, and my waist slenderer. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 You have misled the youthful prince. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 The young prince hath misled me: I am the fellow 
                                 with the great belly, and he my dog. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 Well, I am loath to gall a new-healed wound: your 
                                 day's service at Shrewsbury hath a little gilded 
                                 over your night's exploit on Gad's-hill: you may 
                                 thank the unquiet time for your quiet o'er-posting 
                                 that action. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 My lord? 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 But since all is well, keep it so: wake not a 
                                 sleeping wolf. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 To wake a wolf is as bad as to smell a fox. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 What! you are as a candle, the better part burnt 
                                 out. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 A wassail candle, my lord, all tallow: if I did say 
                                 of wax, my growth would approve the truth. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 There is not a white hair on your face but should 
                                 have his effect of gravity. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 You follow the young prince up and down, like his 
                                 ill angel. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 Not so, my lord; your ill angel is light; but I hope 
                                 he that looks upon me will take me without weighing: 
                                 and yet, in some respects, I grant, I cannot go: I 
                                 cannot tell. Virtue is of so little regard in these 
                                 costermonger times that true valour is turned 
                                 bear-herd: pregnancy is made a tapster, and hath 
                                 his quick wit wasted in giving reckonings: all the 
                                 other gifts appertinent to man, as the malice of 
                                 this age shapes them, are not worth a gooseberry. 
                                 You that are old consider not the capacities of us 
                                 that are young; you do measure the heat of our 
                                 livers with the bitterness of your galls: and we 
                                 that are in the vaward of our youth, I must confess, 
                                 are wags too. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 Do you set down your name in the scroll of youth, 
                                 that are written down old with all the characters of 
                                 age? Have you not a moist eye? a dry hand? a 
                                 yellow cheek? a white beard? a decreasing leg? an 
                                 increasing belly? is not your voice broken? your 
                                 wind short? your chin double? your wit single? and 
                                 every part about you blasted with antiquity? and 
                                 will you yet call yourself young? Fie, fie, fie, Sir John! 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 My lord, I was born about three of the clock in the 
                                 afternoon, with a white head and something a round 
                                 belly. For my voice, I have lost it with halloing 
                                 and singing of anthems. To approve my youth 
                                 further, I will not: the truth is, I am only old in 
                                 judgment and understanding; and he that will caper 
                                 with me for a thousand marks, let him lend me the 
                                 money, and have at him! For the box of the ear that 
                                 the prince gave you, he gave it like a rude prince, 
                                 and you took it like a sensible lord. I have 
                                 chequed him for it, and the young lion repents; 
                                 marry, not in ashes and sackcloth, but in new silk 
                                 and old sack. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 Well, God send the prince a better companion! 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 God send the companion a better prince! I cannot 
                                 rid my hands of him. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 Well, the king hath severed you and Prince Harry: I 
                                 hear you are going with Lord John of Lancaster 
                                 against the Archbishop and the Earl of 
                                 Northumberland. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 Yea; I thank your pretty sweet wit for it. But look 
                                 you pray, all you that kiss my lady Peace at home, 
                                 that our armies join not in a hot day; for, by the 
                                 Lord, I take but two shirts out with me, and I mean 
                                 not to sweat extraordinarily: if it be a hot day, 
                                 and I brandish any thing but a bottle, I would I 
                                 might never spit white again. There is not a 
                                 dangerous action can peep out his head but I am 
                                 thrust upon it: well, I cannot last ever: but it 
                                 was alway yet the trick of our English nation, if 
                                 they have a good thing, to make it too common. If 
                                 ye will needs say I am an old man, you should give 
                                 me rest. I would to God my name were not so 
                                 terrible to the enemy as it is: I were better to be 
                                 eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to 
                                 nothing with perpetual motion. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 Well, be honest, be honest; and God bless your 
                                 expedition! 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 Will your lordship lend me a thousand pound to 
                                 furnish me forth? 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 Not a penny, not a penny; you are too impatient to 
                                 bear crosses. Fare you well: commend me to my 
                                 cousin Westmoreland. 
                                 [Exeunt Chief-Justice and Servant] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle. A man 
                                 can no more separate age and covetousness than a' 
                                 can part young limbs and lechery: but the gout 
                                 galls the one, and the pox pinches the other; and 
                                 so both the degrees prevent my curses. Boy! 
 Page 
                                 Sir? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 What money is in my purse? 
 Page 
                                 Seven groats and two pence. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 I can get no remedy against this consumption of the 
                                 purse: borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, 
                                 but the disease is incurable. Go bear this letter 
                                 to my Lord of Lancaster; this to the prince; this 
                                 to the Earl of Westmoreland; and this to old 
                                 Mistress Ursula, whom I have weekly sworn to marry 
                                 since I perceived the first white hair on my chin. 
                                 About it: you know where to find me. 
                                 [Exit Page] 
                                 A pox of this gout! or, a gout of this pox! for 
                                 the one or the other plays the rogue with my great 
                                 toe. 'Tis no matter if I do halt; I have the wars 
                                 for my colour, and my pension shall seem the more 
                                 reasonable. A good wit will make use of any thing: 
                                 I will turn diseases to commodity. 
                                 [Exit] 



Scene III York. The Archbishop's palace.

                                        [Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, the Lords HASTINGS, 
                                        MOWBRAY, and BARDOLPH] 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                        Thus have you heard our cause and known our means; 
                                        And, my most noble friends, I pray you all, 
                                        Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes: 
                                        And first, lord marshal, what say you to it? 
 MOWBRAY 
                                        I well allow the occasion of our arms; 
                                        But gladly would be better satisfied 
                                        How in our means we should advance ourselves 
                                        To look with forehead bold and big enough 
                                        Upon the power and puissance of the king. 
 HASTINGS 
                                        Our present musters grow upon the file 
                                        To five and twenty thousand men of choice; 
                                        And our supplies live largely in the hope 
                                        Of great Northumberland, whose bosom burns 
                                        With an incensed fire of injuries. 
 LORD BARDOLPH 
                                        The question then, Lord Hastings, standeth thus; 
                                        Whether our present five and twenty thousand 
                                        May hold up head without Northumberland? 
 HASTINGS 
                                        With him, we may. 
 LORD BARDOLPH 
                                        Yea, marry, there's the point: 
                                        But if without him we be thought too feeble, 
                                        My judgment is, we should not step too far 
                                        Till we had his assistance by the hand; 
                                        For in a theme so bloody-faced as this 
                                        Conjecture, expectation, and surmise 
                                        Of aids incertain should not be admitted. 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                        'Tis very true, Lord Bardolph; for indeed 
                                        It was young Hotspur's case at Shrewsbury. 
 LORD BARDOLPH 
                                        It was, my lord; who lined himself with hope, 
                                        Eating the air on promise of supply, 
                                        Flattering himself in project of a power 
                                        Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts: 
                                        And so, with great imagination 
                                        Proper to madmen, led his powers to death 
                                        And winking leap'd into destruction. 
 HASTINGS 
                                        But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt 
                                        To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope. 
 LORD BARDOLPH 
                                        Yes, if this present quality of war, 
                                        Indeed the instant action: a cause on foot 
                                        Lives so in hope as in an early spring 
                                        We see the appearing buds; which to prove fruit, 
                                        Hope gives not so much warrant as despair 
                                        That frosts will bite them. When we mean to build, 
                                        We first survey the plot, then draw the model; 
                                        And when we see the figure of the house, 
                                        Then must we rate the cost of the erection; 
                                        Which if we find outweighs ability, 
                                        What do we then but draw anew the model 
                                        In fewer offices, or at last desist 
                                        To build at all? Much more, in this great work, 
                                        Which is almost to pluck a kingdom down 
                                        And set another up, should we survey 
                                        The plot of situation and the model, 
                                        Consent upon a sure foundation, 
                                        Question surveyors, know our own estate, 
                                        How able such a work to undergo, 
                                        To weigh against his opposite; or else 
                                        We fortify in paper and in figures, 
                                        Using the names of men instead of men: 
                                        Like one that draws the model of a house 
                                        Beyond his power to build it; who, half through, 
                                        Gives o'er and leaves his part-created cost 
                                        A naked subject to the weeping clouds 
                                        And waste for churlish winter's tyranny. 
 HASTINGS 
                                        Grant that our hopes, yet likely of fair birth, 
                                        Should be still-born, and that we now possess'd 
                                        The utmost man of expectation, 
                                        I think we are a body strong enough, 
                                        Even as we are, to equal with the king. 
 LORD BARDOLPH 
                                        What, is the king but five and twenty thousand? 
 HASTINGS 
                                        To us no more; nay, not so much, Lord Bardolph. 
                                        For his divisions, as the times do brawl, 
                                        Are in three heads: one power against the French, 
                                        And one against Glendower; perforce a third 
                                        Must take up us: so is the unfirm king 
                                        In three divided; and his coffers sound 
                                        With hollow poverty and emptiness. 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                        That he should draw his several strengths together 
                                        And come against us in full puissance, 
                                        Need not be dreaded. 
 HASTINGS 
                                        If he should do so, 
                                        He leaves his back unarm'd, the French and Welsh 
                                        Baying him at the heels: never fear that. 
 LORD BARDOLPH 
                                        Who is it like should lead his forces hither? 
 HASTINGS 
                                        The Duke of Lancaster and Westmoreland; 
                                        Against the Welsh, himself and Harry Monmouth: 
                                        But who is substituted 'gainst the French, 
                                        I have no certain notice. 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                        Let us on, 
                                        And publish the occasion of our arms. 
                                        The commonwealth is sick of their own choice; 
                                        Their over-greedy love hath surfeited: 
                                        An habitation giddy and unsure 
                                        Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart. 
                                        O thou fond many, with what loud applause 
                                        Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke, 
                                        Before he was what thou wouldst have him be! 
                                        And being now trimm'd in thine own desires, 
                                        Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him, 
                                        That thou provokest thyself to cast him up. 
                                        So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge 
                                        Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard; 
                                        And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up, 
                                        And howl'st to find it. What trust is in 
                                        these times? 
                                        They that, when Richard lived, would have him die, 
                                        Are now become enamour'd on his grave: 
                                        Thou, that threw'st dust upon his goodly head 
                                        When through proud London he came sighing on 
                                        After the admired heels of Bolingbroke, 
                                        Criest now 'O earth, yield us that king again, 
                                        And take thou this!' O thoughts of men accursed! 
                                        Past and to come seems best; things present worst. 
 MOWBRAY 
                                        Shall we go draw our numbers and set on? 
 HASTINGS 
                                        We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone. 
                                        [Exeunt] 


Act II

Scene I London. A street.

                                   [Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY, FANG and his Boy with her, 
                                   and SNARE following. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                   Master Fang, have you entered the action? 
 FANG 
                                   It is entered. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                   Where's your yeoman? Is't a lusty yeoman? will a' 
                                   stand to 't? 
 FANG 
                                   Sirrah, where's Snare? 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                   O Lord, ay! good Master Snare. 
 SNARE 
                                   Here, here. 
 FANG 
                                   Snare, we must arrest Sir John Falstaff. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                   Yea, good Master Snare; I have entered him and all. 
 SNARE 
                                   It may chance cost some of us our lives, for he will stab. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                   Alas the day! take heed of him; he stabbed me in 
                                   mine own house, and that most beastly: in good 
                                   faith, he cares not what mischief he does. If his 
                                   weapon be out: he will foin like any devil; he will 
                                   spare neither man, woman, nor child. 
 FANG 
                                   If I can close with him, I care not for his thrust. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                   No, nor I neither: I'll be at your elbow. 
 FANG 
                                   An I but fist him once; an a' come but within my vice,-- 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                   I am undone by his going; I warrant you, he's an 
                                   infinitive thing upon my score. Good Master Fang, 
                                   hold him sure: good Master Snare, let him not 
                                   'scape. A' comes continuantly to Pie-corner--saving 
                                   your manhoods--to buy a saddle; and he is indited to 
                                   dinner to the Lubber's-head in Lumbert street, to 
                                   Master Smooth's the silkman: I pray ye, since my 
                                   exion is entered and my case so openly known to the 
                                   world, let him be brought in to his answer. A 
                                   hundred mark is a long one for a poor lone woman to 
                                   bear: and I have borne, and borne, and borne, and 
                                   have been fubbed off, and fubbed off, and fubbed 
                                   off, from this day to that day, that it is a shame 
                                   to be thought on. There is no honesty in such 
                                   dealing; unless a woman should be made an ass and a 
                                   beast, to bear every knave's wrong. Yonder he 
                                   comes; and that errant malmsey-nose knave, Bardolph, 
                                   with him. Do your offices, do your offices: Master 
                                   Fang and Master Snare, do me, do me, do me your offices. 
                                   [Enter FALSTAFF, Page, and BARDOLPH] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                   How now! whose mare's dead? what's the matter? 
 FANG 
                                   Sir John, I arrest you at the suit of Mistress Quickly. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                   Away, varlets! Draw, Bardolph: cut me off the 
                                   villain's head: throw the quean in the channel. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                   Throw me in the channel! I'll throw thee in the 
                                   channel. Wilt thou? wilt thou? thou bastardly 
                                   rogue! Murder, murder! Ah, thou honeysuckle 
                                   villain! wilt thou kill God's officers and the 
                                   king's? Ah, thou honey-seed rogue! thou art a 
                                   honey-seed, a man-queller, and a woman-queller. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                   Keep them off, Bardolph. 
 FANG 
                                   A rescue! a rescue! 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                   Good people, bring a rescue or two. Thou wo't, wo't 
                                   thou? Thou wo't, wo't ta? do, do, thou rogue! do, 
                                   thou hemp-seed! 
 FALSTAFF 
                                   Away, you scullion! you rampallion! You 
                                   fustilarian! I'll tickle your catastrophe. 
                                   [Enter the Lord Chief-Justice, and his men] 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                   What is the matter? keep the peace here, ho! 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                   Good my lord, be good to me. I beseech you, stand to me. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                   How now, Sir John! what are you brawling here? 
                                   Doth this become your place, your time and business? 
                                   You should have been well on your way to York. 
                                   Stand from him, fellow: wherefore hang'st upon him? 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                   O most worshipful lord, an't please your grace, I am 
                                   a poor widow of Eastcheap, and he is arrested at my suit. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                   For what sum? 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                   It is more than for some, my lord; it is for all, 
                                   all I have. He hath eaten me out of house and home; 
                                   he hath put all my substance into that fat belly of 
                                   his: but I will have some of it out again, or I 
                                   will ride thee o' nights like the mare. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                   I think I am as like to ride the mare, if I have 
                                   any vantage of ground to get up. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                   How comes this, Sir John? Fie! what man of good 
                                   temper would endure this tempest of exclamation? 
                                   Are you not ashamed to enforce a poor widow to so 
                                   rough a course to come by her own? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                   What is the gross sum that I owe thee? 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                   Marry, if thou wert an honest man, thyself and the 
                                   money too. Thou didst swear to me upon a 
                                   parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my Dolphin-chamber, 
                                   at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, upon 
                                   Wednesday in Wheeson week, when the prince broke 
                                   thy head for liking his father to a singing-man of 
                                   Windsor, thou didst swear to me then, as I was 
                                   washing thy wound, to marry me and make me my lady 
                                   thy wife. Canst thou deny it? Did not goodwife 
                                   Keech, the butcher's wife, come in then and call me 
                                   gossip Quickly? coming in to borrow a mess of 
                                   vinegar; telling us she had a good dish of prawns; 
                                   whereby thou didst desire to eat some; whereby I 
                                   told thee they were ill for a green wound? And 
                                   didst thou not, when she was gone down stairs, 
                                   desire me to be no more so familiarity with such 
                                   poor people; saying that ere long they should call 
                                   me madam? And didst thou not kiss me and bid me 
                                   fetch thee thirty shillings? I put thee now to thy 
                                   book-oath: deny it, if thou canst. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                   My lord, this is a poor mad soul; and she says up 
                                   and down the town that the eldest son is like you: 
                                   she hath been in good case, and the truth is, 
                                   poverty hath distracted her. But for these foolish 
                                   officers, I beseech you I may have redress against them. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                   Sir John, Sir John, I am well acquainted with your 
                                   manner of wrenching the true cause the false way. It 
                                   is not a confident brow, nor the throng of words 
                                   that come with such more than impudent sauciness 
                                   from you, can thrust me from a level consideration: 
                                   you have, as it appears to me, practised upon the 
                                   easy-yielding spirit of this woman, and made her 
                                   serve your uses both in purse and in person. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                   Yea, in truth, my lord. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                   Pray thee, peace. Pay her the debt you owe her, and 
                                   unpay the villany you have done her: the one you 
                                   may do with sterling money, and the other with 
                                   current repentance. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                   My lord, I will not undergo this sneap without 
                                   reply. You call honourable boldness impudent 
                                   sauciness: if a man will make courtesy and say 
                                   nothing, he is virtuous: no, my lord, my humble 
                                   duty remembered, I will not be your suitor. I say 
                                   to you, I do desire deliverance from these officers, 
                                   being upon hasty employment in the king's affairs. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                   You speak as having power to do wrong: but answer 
                                   in the effect of your reputation, and satisfy this 
                                   poor woman. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                   Come hither, hostess. 
                                   [Enter GOWER] 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                   Now, Master Gower, what news? 
 GOWER 
                                   The king, my lord, and Harry Prince of Wales 
                                   Are near at hand: the rest the paper tells. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                   As I am a gentleman. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                   Faith, you said so before. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                   As I am a gentleman. Come, no more words of it. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                   By this heavenly ground I tread on, I must be fain 
                                   to pawn both my plate and the tapestry of my 
                                   dining-chambers. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                   Glasses, glasses is the only drinking: and for thy 
                                   walls, a pretty slight drollery, or the story of 
                                   the Prodigal, or the German hunting in water-work, 
                                   is worth a thousand of these bed-hangings and these 
                                   fly-bitten tapestries. Let it be ten pound, if thou 
                                   canst. Come, an 'twere not for thy humours, there's 
                                   not a better wench in England. Go, wash thy face, 
                                   and draw the action. Come, thou must not be in 
                                   this humour with me; dost not know me? come, come, I 
                                   know thou wast set on to this. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                   Pray thee, Sir John, let it be but twenty nobles: i' 
                                   faith, I am loath to pawn my plate, so God save me, 
                                   la! 
 FALSTAFF 
                                   Let it alone; I'll make other shift: you'll be a 
                                   fool still. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                   Well, you shall have it, though I pawn my gown. I 
                                   hope you'll come to supper. You'll pay me all together? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                   Will I live? 
                                   [To BARDOLPH] 
                                   Go, with her, with her; hook on, hook on. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                   Will you have Doll Tearsheet meet you at supper? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                   No more words; let's have her. 
                                   [Exeunt MISTRESS QUICKLY, BARDOLPH, Officers and Boy] 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                   I have heard better news. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                   What's the news, my lord? 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                   Where lay the king last night? 
 GOWER 
                                   At Basingstoke, my lord. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                   I hope, my lord, all's well: what is the news, my lord? 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                   Come all his forces back? 
 GOWER 
                                   No; fifteen hundred foot, five hundred horse, 
                                   Are marched up to my lord of Lancaster, 
                                   Against Northumberland and the Archbishop. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                   Comes the king back from Wales, my noble lord? 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                   You shall have letters of me presently: 
                                   Come, go along with me, good Master Gower. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                   My lord! 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                   What's the matter? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                   Master Gower, shall I entreat you with me to dinner? 
 GOWER 
                                   I must wait upon my good lord here; I thank you, 
                                   good Sir John. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                   Sir John, you loiter here too long, being you are to 
                                   take soldiers up in counties as you go. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                   Will you sup with me, Master Gower? 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                   What foolish master taught you these manners, Sir John? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                   Master Gower, if they become me not, he was a fool 
                                   that taught them me. This is the right fencing 
                                   grace, my lord; tap for tap, and so part fair. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                   Now the Lord lighten thee! thou art a great fool. 
                                   [Exeunt] 



Scene II London. Another street.

                               [Enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS] 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Before God, I am exceeding weary. 
 POINS 
                               Is't come to that? I had thought weariness durst not 
                               have attached one of so high blood. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Faith, it does me; though it discolours the 
                               complexion of my greatness to acknowledge it. Doth 
                               it not show vilely in me to desire small beer? 
 POINS 
                               Why, a prince should not be so loosely studied as 
                               to remember so weak a composition. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Belike then my appetite was not princely got; for, 
                               by my troth, I do now remember the poor creature, 
                               small beer. But, indeed, these humble 
                               considerations make me out of love with my 
                               greatness. What a disgrace is it to me to remember 
                               thy name! or to know thy face to-morrow! or to 
                               take note how many pair of silk stockings thou 
                               hast, viz. these, and those that were thy 
                               peach-coloured ones! or to bear the inventory of thy 
                               shirts, as, one for superfluity, and another for 
                               use! But that the tennis-court-keeper knows better 
                               than I; for it is a low ebb of linen with thee when 
                               thou keepest not racket there; as thou hast not done 
                               a great while, because the rest of thy low 
                               countries have made a shift to eat up thy holland: 
                               and God knows, whether those that bawl out the ruins 
                               of thy linen shall inherit his kingdom: but the 
                               midwives say the children are not in the fault; 
                               whereupon the world increases, and kindreds are 
                               mightily strengthened. 
 POINS 
                               How ill it follows, after you have laboured so hard, 
                               you should talk so idly! Tell me, how many good 
                               young princes would do so, their fathers being so 
                               sick as yours at this time is? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins? 
 POINS 
                               Yes, faith; and let it be an excellent good thing. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               It shall serve among wits of no higher breeding than thine. 
 POINS 
                               Go to; I stand the push of your one thing that you 
                               will tell. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Marry, I tell thee, it is not meet that I should be 
                               sad, now my father is sick: albeit I could tell 
                               thee, as to one it pleases me, for fault of a 
                               better, to call my friend, I could be sad, and sad 
                               indeed too. 
 POINS 
                               Very hardly upon such a subject. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               By this hand thou thinkest me as far in the devil's 
                               book as thou and Falstaff for obduracy and 
                               persistency: let the end try the man. But I tell 
                               thee, my heart bleeds inwardly that my father is so 
                               sick: and keeping such vile company as thou art 
                               hath in reason taken from me all ostentation of sorrow. 
 POINS 
                               The reason? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               What wouldst thou think of me, if I should weep? 
 POINS 
                               I would think thee a most princely hypocrite. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               It would be every man's thought; and thou art a 
                               blessed fellow to think as every man thinks: never 
                               a man's thought in the world keeps the road-way 
                               better than thine: every man would think me an 
                               hypocrite indeed. And what accites your most 
                               worshipful thought to think so? 
 POINS 
                               Why, because you have been so lewd and so much 
                               engraffed to Falstaff. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               And to thee. 
 POINS 
                               By this light, I am well spoke on; I can hear it 
                               with my own ears: the worst that they can say of 
                               me is that I am a second brother and that I am a 
                               proper fellow of my hands; and those two things, I 
                               confess, I cannot help. By the mass, here comes Bardolph. 
                               [Enter BARDOLPH and Page] 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               And the boy that I gave Falstaff: a' had him from 
                               me Christian; and look, if the fat villain have not 
                               transformed him ape. 
 BARDOLPH 
                               God save your grace! 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               And yours, most noble Bardolph! 
 BARDOLPH 
                               Come, you virtuous ass, you bashful fool, must you 
                               be blushing? wherefore blush you now? What a 
                               maidenly man-at-arms are you become! Is't such a 
                               matter to get a pottle-pot's maidenhead? 
 Page 
                               A' calls me e'en now, my lord, through a red 
                               lattice, and I could discern no part of his face 
                               from the window: at last I spied his eyes, and 
                               methought he had made two holes in the ale-wife's 
                               new petticoat and so peeped through. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Has not the boy profited? 
 BARDOLPH 
                               Away, you whoreson upright rabbit, away! 
 Page 
                               Away, you rascally Althaea's dream, away! 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Instruct us, boy; what dream, boy? 
 Page 
                               Marry, my lord, Althaea dreamed she was delivered 
                               of a fire-brand; and therefore I call him her dream. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               A crown's worth of good interpretation: there 'tis, 
                               boy. 
 POINS 
                               O, that this good blossom could be kept from 
                               cankers! Well, there is sixpence to preserve thee. 
 BARDOLPH 
                               An you do not make him hanged among you, the 
                               gallows shall have wrong. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               And how doth thy master, Bardolph? 
 BARDOLPH 
                               Well, my lord. He heard of your grace's coming to 
                               town: there's a letter for you. 
 POINS 
                               Delivered with good respect. And how doth the 
                               martlemas, your master? 
 BARDOLPH 
                               In bodily health, sir. 
 POINS 
                               Marry, the immortal part needs a physician; but 
                               that moves not him: though that be sick, it dies 
                               not. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               I do allow this wen to be as familiar with me as my 
                               dog; and he holds his place; for look you how be writes. 
 POINS 
                               [Reads] 'John Falstaff, knight,'--every man must 
                               know that, as oft as he has occasion to name 
                               himself: even like those that are kin to the king; 
                               for they never prick their finger but they say, 
                               'There's some of the king's blood spilt.' 'How 
                               comes that?' says he, that takes upon him not to 
                               conceive. The answer is as ready as a borrower's 
                               cap, 'I am the king's poor cousin, sir.' 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Nay, they will be kin to us, or they will fetch it 
                               from Japhet. But to the letter. 
 POINS 
                               [Reads] 'Sir John Falstaff, knight, to the son of 
                               the king, nearest his father, Harry Prince of 
                               Wales, greeting.' Why, this is a certificate. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Peace! 
 POINS 
                               [Reads] 'I will imitate the honourable Romans in 
                               brevity:' he sure means brevity in breath, 
                               short-winded. 'I commend me to thee, I commend 
                               thee, and I leave thee. Be not too familiar with 
                               Poins; for he misuses thy favours so much, that he 
                               swears thou art to marry his sister Nell. Repent 
                               at idle times as thou mayest; and so, farewell. 
                               Thine, by yea and no, which is as much as to 
                               say, as thou usest him, JACK FALSTAFF with my 
                               familiars, JOHN with my brothers and sisters, 
                               and SIR JOHN with all Europe.' 
                               My lord, I'll steep this letter in sack and make him eat it. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               That's to make him eat twenty of his words. But do 
                               you use me thus, Ned? must I marry your sister? 
 POINS 
                               God send the wench no worse fortune! But I never said so. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Well, thus we play the fools with the time, and the 
                               spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us. 
                               Is your master here in London? 
 BARDOLPH 
                               Yea, my lord. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Where sups he? doth the old boar feed in the old frank? 
 BARDOLPH 
                               At the old place, my lord, in Eastcheap. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               What company? 
 Page 
                               Ephesians, my lord, of the old church. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Sup any women with him? 
 Page 
                               None, my lord, but old Mistress Quickly and 
                               Mistress Doll Tearsheet. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               What pagan may that be? 
 Page 
                               A proper gentlewoman, sir, and a kinswoman of my master's. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Even such kin as the parish heifers are to the town 
                               bull. Shall we steal upon them, Ned, at supper? 
 POINS 
                               I am your shadow, my lord; I'll follow you. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no word to your 
                               master that I am yet come to town: there's for 
                               your silence. 
 BARDOLPH 
                               I have no tongue, sir. 
 Page 
                               And for mine, sir, I will govern it. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               Fare you well; go. 
                               [Exeunt BARDOLPH and Page] 
                               This Doll Tearsheet should be some road. 
 POINS 
                               I warrant you, as common as the way between Saint 
                               Alban's and London. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               How might we see Falstaff bestow himself to-night 
                               in his true colours, and not ourselves be seen? 
 POINS 
                               Put on two leathern jerkins and aprons, and wait 
                               upon him at his table as drawers. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                               From a God to a bull? a heavy decension! it was 
                               Jove's case. From a prince to a prentice? a low 
                               transformation! that shall be mine; for in every 
                               thing the purpose must weigh with the folly. 
                               Follow me, Ned. 
                               [Exeunt] 



Scene III Warkworth. Before the castle.

                             [Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, LADY NORTHUMBERLAND, and LADY PERCY] 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                             I pray thee, loving wife, and gentle daughter, 
                             Give even way unto my rough affairs: 
                             Put not you on the visage of the times 
                             And be like them to Percy troublesome. 
 LADY 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 

                             I have given over, I will speak no more: 
                             Do what you will; your wisdom be your guide. 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                             Alas, sweet wife, my honour is at pawn; 
                             And, but my going, nothing can redeem it. 
 LADY PERCY 
                             O yet, for God's sake, go not to these wars! 
                             The time was, father, that you broke your word, 
                             When you were more endeared to it than now; 
                             When your own Percy, when my heart's dear Harry, 
                             Threw many a northward look to see his father 
                             Bring up his powers; but he did long in vain. 
                             Who then persuaded you to stay at home? 
                             There were two honours lost, yours and your son's. 
                             For yours, the God of heaven brighten it! 
                             For his, it stuck upon him as the sun 
                             In the grey vault of heaven, and by his light 
                             Did all the chivalry of England move 
                             To do brave acts: he was indeed the glass 
                             Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves: 
                             He had no legs that practised not his gait; 
                             And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish, 
                             Became the accents of the valiant; 
                             For those that could speak low and tardily 
                             Would turn their own perfection to abuse, 
                             To seem like him: so that in speech, in gait, 
                             In diet, in affections of delight, 
                             In military rules, humours of blood, 
                             He was the mark and glass, copy and book, 
                             That fashion'd others. And him, O wondrous him! 
                             O miracle of men! him did you leave, 
                             Second to none, unseconded by you, 
                             To look upon the hideous god of war 
                             In disadvantage; to abide a field 
                             Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur's name 
                             Did seem defensible: so you left him. 
                             Never, O never, do his ghost the wrong 
                             To hold your honour more precise and nice 
                             With others than with him! let them alone: 
                             The marshal and the archbishop are strong: 
                             Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers, 
                             To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck, 
                             Have talk'd of Monmouth's grave. 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                             Beshrew your heart, 
                             Fair daughter, you do draw my spirits from me 
                             With new lamenting ancient oversights. 
                             But I must go and meet with danger there, 
                             Or it will seek me in another place 
                             And find me worse provided. 
 LADY 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 

                             O, fly to Scotland, 
                             Till that the nobles and the armed commons 
                             Have of their puissance made a little taste. 
 LADY PERCY 
                             If they get ground and vantage of the king, 
                             Then join you with them, like a rib of steel, 
                             To make strength stronger; but, for all our loves, 
                             First let them try themselves. So did your son; 
                             He was so suffer'd: so came I a widow; 
                             And never shall have length of life enough 
                             To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes, 
                             That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven, 
                             For recordation to my noble husband. 
 NORTHUMBERLAND 
                             Come, come, go in with me. 'Tis with my mind 
                             As with the tide swell'd up unto his height, 
                             That makes a still-stand, running neither way: 
                             Fain would I go to meet the archbishop, 
                             But many thousand reasons hold me back. 
                             I will resolve for Scotland: there am I, 
                             Till time and vantage crave my company. 
                             [Exeunt] 



Scene IV London. The Boar's-head Tavern in Eastcheap.

                                    [Enter two Drawers] 
 First Drawer 
                                    What the devil hast thou brought there? apple-johns? 
                                    thou knowest Sir John cannot endure an apple-john. 
 Second Drawer 
                                    Mass, thou sayest true. The prince once set a dish 
                                    of apple-johns before him, and told him there were 
                                    five more Sir Johns, and, putting off his hat, said 
                                    'I will now take my leave of these six dry, round, 
                                    old, withered knights.' It angered him to the 
                                    heart: but he hath forgot that. 
 First Drawer 
                                    Why, then, cover, and set them down: and see if 
                                    thou canst find out Sneak's noise; Mistress 
                                    Tearsheet would fain hear some music. Dispatch: the 
                                    room where they supped is too hot; they'll come in straight. 
 Second Drawer 
                                    Sirrah, here will be the prince and Master Poins 
                                    anon; and they will put on two of our jerkins and 
                                    aprons; and Sir John must not know of it: Bardolph 
                                    hath brought word. 
 First Drawer 
                                    By the mass, here will be old Utis: it will be an 
                                    excellent stratagem. 
 Second Drawer 
                                    I'll see if I can find out Sneak. 
                                    [Exit] 
                                    [Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY and DOLL TEARSHEET] 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    I' faith, sweetheart, methinks now you are in an 
                                    excellent good temperality: your pulsidge beats as 
                                    extraordinarily as heart would desire; and your 
                                    colour, I warrant you, is as red as any rose, in good 
                                    truth, la! But, i' faith, you have drunk too much 
                                    canaries; and that's a marvellous searching wine, 
                                    and it perfumes the blood ere one can say 'What's 
                                    this?' How do you now? 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    Better than I was: hem! 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    Why, that's well said; a good heart's worth gold. 
                                    Lo, here comes Sir John. 
                                    [Enter FALSTAFF] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    [Singing] 'When Arthur first in court,' 
                                    --Empty the jordan. 
                                    [Exit First Drawer] 
                                    [Singing] 
                                    --'And was a worthy king.' How now, Mistress Doll! 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    Sick of a calm; yea, good faith. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    So is all her sect; an they be once in a calm, they are sick. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    You muddy rascal, is that all the comfort you give me? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    You make fat rascals, Mistress Doll. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    I make them! gluttony and diseases make them; I 
                                    make them not. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    If the cook help to make the gluttony, you help to 
                                    make the diseases, Doll: we catch of you, Doll, we 
                                    catch of you; grant that, my poor virtue grant that. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    Yea, joy, our chains and our jewels. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    'Your broaches, pearls, and ouches:' for to serve 
                                    bravely is to come halting off, you know: to come 
                                    off the breach with his pike bent bravely, and to 
                                    surgery bravely; to venture upon the charged 
                                    chambers bravely,-- 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    Hang yourself, you muddy conger, hang yourself! 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    By my troth, this is the old fashion; you two never 
                                    meet but you fall to some discord: you are both, 
                                    i' good truth, as rheumatic as two dry toasts; you 
                                    cannot one bear with another's confirmities. What 
                                    the good-year! one must bear, and that must be 
                                    you: you are the weaker vessel, as they say, the 
                                    emptier vessel. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge full 
                                    hogshead? there's a whole merchant's venture of 
                                    Bourdeaux stuff in him; you have not seen a hulk 
                                    better stuffed in the hold. Come, I'll be friends 
                                    with thee, Jack: thou art going to the wars; and 
                                    whether I shall ever see thee again or no, there is 
                                    nobody cares. 
                                    [Re-enter First Drawer] 
 First Drawer 
                                    Sir, Ancient Pistol's below, and would speak with 
                                    you. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    Hang him, swaggering rascal! let him not come 
                                    hither: it is the foul-mouthed'st rogue in England. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    If he swagger, let him not come here: no, by my 
                                    faith; I must live among my neighbours: I'll no 
                                    swaggerers: I am in good name and fame with the 
                                    very best: shut the door; there comes no swaggerers 
                                    here: I have not lived all this while, to have 
                                    swaggering now: shut the door, I pray you. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    Dost thou hear, hostess? 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    Pray ye, pacify yourself, Sir John: there comes no 
                                    swaggerers here. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    Dost thou hear? it is mine ancient. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    Tilly-fally, Sir John, ne'er tell me: your ancient 
                                    swaggerer comes not in my doors. I was before Master 
                                    Tisick, the debuty, t'other day; and, as he said to 
                                    me, 'twas no longer ago than Wednesday last, 'I' 
                                    good faith, neighbour Quickly,' says he; Master 
                                    Dumbe, our minister, was by then; 'neighbour 
                                    Quickly,' says he, 'receive those that are civil; 
                                    for,' said he, 'you are in an ill name:' now a' 
                                    said so, I can tell whereupon; 'for,' says he, 'you 
                                    are an honest woman, and well thought on; therefore 
                                    take heed what guests you receive: receive,' says 
                                    he, 'no swaggering companions.' There comes none 
                                    here: you would bless you to hear what he said: 
                                    no, I'll no swaggerers. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    He's no swaggerer, hostess; a tame cheater, i' 
                                    faith; you may stroke him as gently as a puppy 
                                    greyhound: he'll not swagger with a Barbary hen, if 
                                    her feathers turn back in any show of resistance. 
                                    Call him up, drawer. 
                                    [Exit First Drawer] 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    Cheater, call you him? I will bar no honest man my 
                                    house, nor no cheater: but I do not love 
                                    swaggering, by my troth; I am the worse, when one 
                                    says swagger: feel, masters, how I shake; look you, 
                                    I warrant you. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    So you do, hostess. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    Do I? yea, in very truth, do I, an 'twere an aspen 
                                    leaf: I cannot abide swaggerers. 
                                    [Enter PISTOL, BARDOLPH, and Page] 
 PISTOL 
                                    God save you, Sir John! 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    Welcome, Ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I charge 
                                    you with a cup of sack: do you discharge upon mine hostess. 
 PISTOL 
                                    I will discharge upon her, Sir John, with two bullets. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    She is Pistol-proof, sir; you shall hardly offend 
                                    her. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    Come, I'll drink no proofs nor no bullets: I'll 
                                    drink no more than will do me good, for no man's 
                                    pleasure, I. 
 PISTOL 
                                    Then to you, Mistress Dorothy; I will charge you. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    Charge me! I scorn you, scurvy companion. What! 
                                    you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen 
                                    mate! Away, you mouldy rogue, away! I am meat for 
                                    your master. 
 PISTOL 
                                    I know you, Mistress Dorothy. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    Away, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy bung, away! 
                                    by this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy 
                                    chaps, an you play the saucy cuttle with me. Away, 
                                    you bottle-ale rascal! you basket-hilt stale 
                                    juggler, you! Since when, I pray you, sir? God's 
                                    light, with two points on your shoulder? much! 
 PISTOL 
                                    God let me not live, but I will murder your ruff for this. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    No more, Pistol; I would not have you go off here: 
                                    discharge yourself of our company, Pistol. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    No, Good Captain Pistol; not here, sweet captain. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    Captain! thou abominable damned cheater, art thou 
                                    not ashamed to be called captain? An captains were 
                                    of my mind, they would truncheon you out, for 
                                    taking their names upon you before you have earned 
                                    them. You a captain! you slave, for what? for 
                                    tearing a poor whore's ruff in a bawdy-house? He a 
                                    captain! hang him, rogue! he lives upon mouldy 
                                    stewed prunes and dried cakes. A captain! God's 
                                    light, these villains will make the word as odious 
                                    as the word 'occupy;' which was an excellent good 
                                    word before it was ill sorted: therefore captains 
                                    had need look to 't. 
 BARDOLPH 
                                    Pray thee, go down, good ancient. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll. 
 PISTOL 
                                    Not I I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph, I could 
                                    tear her: I'll be revenged of her. 
 Page 
                                    Pray thee, go down. 
 PISTOL 
                                    I'll see her damned first; to Pluto's damned lake, 
                                    by this hand, to the infernal deep, with Erebus and 
                                    tortures vile also. Hold hook and line, say I. 
                                    Down, down, dogs! down, faitors! Have we not 
                                    Hiren here? 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    Good Captain Peesel, be quiet; 'tis very late, i' 
                                    faith: I beseek you now, aggravate your choler. 
 PISTOL 
                                    These be good humours, indeed! Shall pack-horses 
                                    And hollow pamper'd jades of Asia, 
                                    Which cannot go but thirty mile a-day, 
                                    Compare with Caesars, and with Cannibals, 
                                    And Trojan Greeks? nay, rather damn them with 
                                    King Cerberus; and let the welkin roar. 
                                    Shall we fall foul for toys? 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    By my troth, captain, these are very bitter words. 
 BARDOLPH 
                                    Be gone, good ancient: this will grow to abrawl anon. 
 PISTOL 
                                    Die men like dogs! give crowns like pins! Have we 
                                    not Heren here? 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    O' my word, captain, there's none such here. What 
                                    the good-year! do you think I would deny her? For 
                                    God's sake, be quiet. 
 PISTOL 
                                    Then feed, and be fat, my fair Calipolis. 
                                    Come, give's some sack. 
                                    'Si fortune me tormente, sperato me contento.' 
                                    Fear we broadsides? no, let the fiend give fire: 
                                    Give me some sack: and, sweetheart, lie thou there. 
                                    [Laying down his sword] 
                                    Come we to full points here; and are etceteras nothing? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    Pistol, I would be quiet. 
 PISTOL 
                                    Sweet knight, I kiss thy neaf: what! we have seen 
                                    the seven stars. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    For God's sake, thrust him down stairs: I cannot 
                                    endure such a fustian rascal. 
 PISTOL 
                                    Thrust him down stairs! know we not Galloway nags? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat 
                                    shilling: nay, an a' do nothing but speak nothing, 
                                    a' shall be nothing here. 
 BARDOLPH 
                                    Come, get you down stairs. 
 PISTOL 
                                    What! shall we have incision? shall we imbrue? 
                                    [Snatching up his sword] 
                                    Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days! 
                                    Why, then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds 
                                    Untwine the Sisters Three! Come, Atropos, I say! 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    Here's goodly stuff toward! 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    Give me my rapier, boy. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not draw. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    Get you down stairs. 
                                    [Drawing, and driving PISTOL out] 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    Here's a goodly tumult! I'll forswear keeping 
                                    house, afore I'll be in these tirrits and frights. 
                                    So; murder, I warrant now. Alas, alas! put up 
                                    your naked weapons, put up your naked weapons. 
                                    [Exeunt PISTOL and BARDOLPH] 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    I pray thee, Jack, be quiet; the rascal's gone. 
                                    Ah, you whoreson little valiant villain, you! 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    He you not hurt i' the groin? methought a' made a 
                                    shrewd thrust at your belly. 
                                    [Re-enter BARDOLPH] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    Have you turned him out o' doors? 
 BARDOLPH 
                                    Yea, sir. The rascal's drunk: you have hurt him, 
                                    sir, i' the shoulder. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    A rascal! to brave me! 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! alas, poor ape, 
                                    how thou sweatest! come, let me wipe thy face; 
                                    come on, you whoreson chops: ah, rogue! i'faith, I 
                                    love thee: thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy, 
                                    worth five of Agamemnon, and ten times better than 
                                    the Nine Worthies: ah, villain! 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    Do, an thou darest for thy heart: an thou dost, 
                                    I'll canvass thee between a pair of sheets. 
                                    [Enter Music] 
 Page 
                                    The music is come, sir. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    Let them play. Play, sirs. Sit on my knee, Doll. 
                                    A rascal bragging slave! the rogue fled from me 
                                    like quicksilver. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    I' faith, and thou followedst him like a church. 
                                    Thou whoreson little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig, 
                                    when wilt thou leave fighting o' days and foining 
                                    o' nights, and begin to patch up thine old body for heaven? 
                                    [Enter, behind, PRINCE HENRY and POINS, disguised] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    Peace, good Doll! do not speak like a death's-head; 
                                    do not bid me remember mine end. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    Sirrah, what humour's the prince of? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    A good shallow young fellow: a' would have made a 
                                    good pantler, a' would ha' chipp'd bread well. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    They say Poins has a good wit. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    He a good wit? hang him, baboon! his wit's as thick 
                                    as Tewksbury mustard; there's no more conceit in him 
                                    than is in a mallet. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    Why does the prince love him so, then? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    Because their legs are both of a bigness, and a' 
                                    plays at quoits well, and eats conger and fennel, 
                                    and drinks off candles' ends for flap-dragons, and 
                                    rides the wild-mare with the boys, and jumps upon 
                                    joined-stools, and swears with a good grace, and 
                                    wears his boots very smooth, like unto the sign of 
                                    the leg, and breeds no bate with telling of discreet 
                                    stories; and such other gambol faculties a' has, 
                                    that show a weak mind and an able body, for the 
                                    which the prince admits him: for the prince himself 
                                    is such another; the weight of a hair will turn the 
                                    scales between their avoirdupois. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                    Would not this nave of a wheel have his ears cut off? 
 POINS 
                                    Let's beat him before his whore. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                    Look, whether the withered elder hath not his poll 
                                    clawed like a parrot. 
 POINS 
                                    Is it not strange that desire should so many years 
                                    outlive performance? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    Kiss me, Doll. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                    Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction! what 
                                    says the almanac to that? 
 POINS 
                                    And look, whether the fiery Trigon, his man, be not 
                                    lisping to his master's old tables, his note-book, 
                                    his counsel-keeper. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    Thou dost give me flattering busses. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    By my troth, I kiss thee with a most constant heart. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    I am old, I am old. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy young 
                                    boy of them all. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    What stuff wilt have a kirtle of? I shall receive 
                                    money o' Thursday: shalt have a cap to-morrow. A 
                                    merry song, come: it grows late; we'll to bed. 
                                    Thou'lt forget me when I am gone. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    By my troth, thou'lt set me a-weeping, an thou 
                                    sayest so: prove that ever I dress myself handsome 
                                    till thy return: well, harken at the end. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    Some sack, Francis. 
 PRINCE HENRY 

 POINS 
                                    | 
                                    | Anon, anon, sir. 
                                    | 
                                    [Coming forward] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    Ha! a bastard son of the king's? And art not thou 
                                    Poins his brother? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                    Why, thou globe of sinful continents! what a life 
                                    dost thou lead! 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    A better than thou: I am a gentleman; thou art a drawer. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                    Very true, sir; and I come to draw you out by the ears. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    O, the Lord preserve thy good grace! by my troth, 
                                    welcome to London. Now, the Lord bless that sweet 
                                    face of thine! O, Jesu, are you come from Wales? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty, by this light 
                                    flesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    How, you fat fool! I scorn you. 
 POINS 
                                    My lord, he will drive you out of your revenge and 
                                    turn all to a merriment, if you take not the heat. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                    You whoreson candle-mine, you, how vilely did you 
                                    speak of me even now before this honest, virtuous, 
                                    civil gentlewoman! 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    God's blessing of your good heart! and so she is, 
                                    by my troth. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    Didst thou hear me? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                    Yea, and you knew me, as you did when you ran away 
                                    by Gad's-hill: you knew I was at your back, and 
                                    spoke it on purpose to try my patience. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    No, no, no; not so; I did not think thou wast within hearing. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                    I shall drive you then to confess the wilful abuse; 
                                    and then I know how to handle you. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    No abuse, Hal, o' mine honour, no abuse. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                    Not to dispraise me, and call me pantier and 
                                    bread-chipper and I know not what? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    No abuse, Hal. 
 POINS 
                                    No abuse? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    No abuse, Ned, i' the world; honest Ned, none. I 
                                    dispraised him before the wicked, that the wicked 
                                    might not fall in love with him; in which doing, I 
                                    have done the part of a careful friend and a true 
                                    subject, and thy father is to give me thanks for it. 
                                    No abuse, Hal: none, Ned, none: no, faith, boys, none. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                    See now, whether pure fear and entire cowardice doth 
                                    not make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman to 
                                    close with us? is she of the wicked? is thine 
                                    hostess here of the wicked? or is thy boy of the 
                                    wicked? or honest Bardolph, whose zeal burns in his 
                                    nose, of the wicked? 
 POINS 
                                    Answer, thou dead elm, answer. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph irrecoverable; 
                                    and his face is Lucifer's privy-kitchen, where he 
                                    doth nothing but roast malt-worms. For the boy, 
                                    there is a good angel about him; but the devil 
                                    outbids him too. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                    For the women? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    For one of them, she is in hell already, and burns 
                                    poor souls. For the other, I owe her money, and 
                                    whether she be damned for that, I know not. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    No, I warrant you. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    No, I think thou art not; I think thou art quit for 
                                    that. Marry, there is another indictment upon thee, 
                                    for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy house, 
                                    contrary to the law; for the which I think thou wilt howl. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    All victuallers do so; what's a joint of mutton or 
                                    two in a whole Lent? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                    You, gentlewoman,- 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    What says your grace? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    His grace says that which his flesh rebels against. 
                                    [Knocking within] 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    Who knocks so loud at door? Look to the door there, Francis. 
                                    [Enter PETO] 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                    Peto, how now! what news? 
 PETO 
                                    The king your father is at Westminster: 
                                    And there are twenty weak and wearied posts 
                                    Come from the north: and, as I came along, 
                                    I met and overtook a dozen captains, 
                                    Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns, 
                                    And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                                    By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame, 
                                    So idly to profane the precious time, 
                                    When tempest of commotion, like the south 
                                    Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt 
                                    And drop upon our bare unarmed heads. 
                                    Give me my sword and cloak. Falstaff, good night. 
                                    [Exeunt PRINCE HENRY, POINS, PETO and BARDOLPH] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and 
                                    we must hence and leave it unpicked. 
                                    [Knocking within] 
                                    More knocking at the door! 
                                    [Re-enter BARDOLPH] 
                                    How now! what's the matter? 
 BARDOLPH 
                                    You must away to court, sir, presently; 
                                    A dozen captains stay at door for you. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    [To the Page] Pay the musicians, sirrah. Farewell, 
                                    hostess; farewell, Doll. You see, my good wenches, 
                                    how men of merit are sought after: the undeserver 
                                    may sleep, when the man of action is called on. 
                                    Farewell good wenches: if I be not sent away post, 
                                    I will see you again ere I go. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                    I cannot speak; if my heart be not read to burst,-- 
                                    well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                    Farewell, farewell. 
                                    [Exeunt FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH] 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    Well, fare thee well: I have known thee these 
                                    twenty-nine years, come peascod-time; but an 
                                    honester and truer-hearted man,--well, fare thee well. 
 BARDOLPH 
                                    [Within] Mistress Tearsheet! 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    What's the matter? 
 BARDOLPH 
                                    [Within] Good Mistress Tearsheet, come to my master. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                    O, run, Doll, run; run, good Doll: come. 
                                    [She comes blubbered] 
                                    Yea, will you come, Doll? 
                                    [Exeunt] 


Act III

Scene I Westminster. The palace.

                                  [Enter KING HENRY IV in his nightgown, with a Page] 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                  Go call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick; 
                                  But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters, 
                                  And well consider of them; make good speed. 
                                  [Exit Page] 
                                  How many thousand of my poorest subjects 
                                  Are at this hour asleep! O sleep, O gentle sleep, 
                                  Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, 
                                  That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down 
                                  And steep my senses in forgetfulness? 
                                  Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, 
                                  Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee 
                                  And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, 
                                  Than in the perfumed chambers of the great, 
                                  Under the canopies of costly state, 
                                  And lull'd with sound of sweetest melody? 
                                  O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile 
                                  In loathsome beds, and leavest the kingly couch 
                                  A watch-case or a common 'larum-bell? 
                                  Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast 
                                  Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains 
                                  In cradle of the rude imperious surge 
                                  And in the visitation of the winds, 
                                  Who take the ruffian billows by the top, 
                                  Curling their monstrous heads and hanging them 
                                  With deafening clamour in the slippery clouds, 
                                  That, with the hurly, death itself awakes? 
                                  Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose 
                                  To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude, 
                                  And in the calmest and most stillest night, 
                                  With all appliances and means to boot, 
                                  Deny it to a king? Then happy low, lie down! 
                                  Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. 
                                  [Enter WARWICK and SURREY] 
 WARWICK 
                                  Many good morrows to your majesty! 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                  Is it good morrow, lords? 
 WARWICK 
                                  'Tis one o'clock, and past. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                  Why, then, good morrow to you all, my lords. 
                                  Have you read o'er the letters that I sent you? 
 WARWICK 
                                  We have, my liege. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                  Then you perceive the body of our kingdom 
                                  How foul it is; what rank diseases grow 
                                  And with what danger, near the heart of it. 
 WARWICK 
                                  It is but as a body yet distemper'd; 
                                  Which to his former strength may be restored 
                                  With good advice and little medicine: 
                                  My Lord Northumberland will soon be cool'd. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                  O God! that one might read the book of fate, 
                                  And see the revolution of the times 
                                  Make mountains level, and the continent, 
                                  Weary of solid firmness, melt itself 
                                  Into the sea! and, other times, to see 
                                  The beachy girdle of the ocean 
                                  Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock, 
                                  And changes fill the cup of alteration 
                                  With divers liquors! O, if this were seen, 
                                  The happiest youth, viewing his progress through, 
                                  What perils past, what crosses to ensue, 
                                  Would shut the book, and sit him down and die. 
                                  'Tis not 'ten years gone 
                                  Since Richard and Northumberland, great friends, 
                                  Did feast together, and in two years after 
                                  Were they at wars: it is but eight years since 
                                  This Percy was the man nearest my soul, 
                                  Who like a brother toil'd in my affairs 
                                  And laid his love and life under my foot, 
                                  Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of Richard 
                                  Gave him defiance. But which of you was by-- 
                                  You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember-- 
                                  [To WARWICK] 
                                  When Richard, with his eye brimful of tears, 
                                  Then cheque'd and rated by Northumberland, 
                                  Did speak these words, now proved a prophecy? 
                                  'Northumberland, thou ladder by the which 
                                  My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne;' 
                                  Though then, God knows, I had no such intent, 
                                  But that necessity so bow'd the state 
                                  That I and greatness were compell'd to kiss: 
                                  'The time shall come,' thus did he follow it, 
                                  'The time will come, that foul sin, gathering head, 
                                  Shall break into corruption:' so went on, 
                                  Foretelling this same time's condition 
                                  And the division of our amity. 
 WARWICK 
                                  There is a history in all men's lives, 
                                  Figuring the nature of the times deceased; 
                                  The which observed, a man may prophesy, 
                                  With a near aim, of the main chance of things 
                                  As yet not come to life, which in their seeds 
                                  And weak beginnings lie intreasured. 
                                  Such things become the hatch and brood of time; 
                                  And by the necessary form of this 
                                  King Richard might create a perfect guess 
                                  That great Northumberland, then false to him, 
                                  Would of that seed grow to a greater falseness; 
                                  Which should not find a ground to root upon, 
                                  Unless on you. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                  Are these things then necessities? 
                                  Then let us meet them like necessities: 
                                  And that same word even now cries out on us: 
                                  They say the bishop and Northumberland 
                                  Are fifty thousand strong. 
 WARWICK 
                                  It cannot be, my lord; 
                                  Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo, 
                                  The numbers of the fear'd. Please it your grace 
                                  To go to bed. Upon my soul, my lord, 
                                  The powers that you already have sent forth 
                                  Shall bring this prize in very easily. 
                                  To comfort you the more, I have received 
                                  A certain instance that Glendower is dead. 
                                  Your majesty hath been this fortnight ill, 
                                  And these unseason'd hours perforce must add 
                                  Unto your sickness. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                  I will take your counsel: 
                                  And were these inward wars once out of hand, 
                                  We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land. 
                                  [Exeunt] 



Scene II Gloucestershire. Before SHALLOW'S house.

                         [Enter SHALLOW and SILENCE, meeting; MOULDY, 
                         SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, BULLCALF, a Servant or two 
                         with them] 
 SHALLOW 
                         Come on, come on, come on, sir; give me your hand, 
                         sir, give me your hand, sir: an early stirrer, by 
                         the rood! And how doth my good cousin Silence? 
 SILENCE 
                         Good morrow, good cousin Shallow. 
 SHALLOW 
                         And how doth my cousin, your bedfellow? and your 
                         fairest daughter and mine, my god-daughter Ellen? 
 SILENCE 
                         Alas, a black ousel, cousin Shallow! 
 SHALLOW 
                         By yea and nay, sir, I dare say my cousin William is 
                         become a good scholar: he is at Oxford still, is he not? 
 SILENCE 
                         Indeed, sir, to my cost. 
 SHALLOW 
                         A' must, then, to the inns o' court shortly. I was 
                         once of Clement's Inn, where I think they will 
                         talk of mad Shallow yet. 
 SILENCE 
                         You were called 'lusty Shallow' then, cousin. 
 SHALLOW 
                         By the mass, I was called any thing; and I would 
                         have done any thing indeed too, and roundly too. 
                         There was I, and little John Doit of Staffordshire, 
                         and black George Barnes, and Francis Pickbone, and 
                         Will Squele, a Cotswold man; you had not four such 
                         swinge-bucklers in all the inns o' court again: and 
                         I may say to you, we knew where the bona-robas were 
                         and had the best of them all at commandment. Then 
                         was Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, a boy, and page to 
                         Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk. 
 SILENCE 
                         This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon about soldiers? 
 SHALLOW 
                         The same Sir John, the very same. I see him break 
                         Skogan's head at the court-gate, when a' was a 
                         crack not thus high: and the very same day did I 
                         fight with one Sampson Stockfish, a fruiterer, 
                         behind Gray's Inn. Jesu, Jesu, the mad days that I 
                         have spent! and to see how many of my old 
                         acquaintance are dead! 
 SILENCE 
                         We shall all follow, cousin. 
 SHADOW 
                         Certain, 'tis certain; very sure, very sure: death, 
                         as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall 
                         die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair? 
 SILENCE 
                         By my troth, I was not there. 
 SHALLOW 
                         Death is certain. Is old Double of your town living 
                         yet? 
 SILENCE 
                         Dead, sir. 
 SHALLOW 
                         Jesu, Jesu, dead! a' drew a good bow; and dead! a' 
                         shot a fine shoot: John a Gaunt loved him well, and 
                         betted much money on his head. Dead! a' would have 
                         clapped i' the clout at twelve score; and carried 
                         you a forehand shaft a fourteen and fourteen and a 
                         half, that it would have done a man's heart good to 
                         see. How a score of ewes now? 
 SILENCE 
                         Thereafter as they be: a score of good ewes may be 
                         worth ten pounds. 
 SHALLOW 
                         And is old Double dead? 
 SILENCE 
                         Here come two of Sir John Falstaff's men, as I think. 
                         [Enter BARDOLPH and one with him] 
 BARDOLPH 
                         Good morrow, honest gentlemen: I beseech you, which 
                         is Justice Shallow? 
 SHALLOW 
                         I am Robert Shallow, sir; a poor esquire of this 
                         county, and one of the king's justices of the peace: 
                         What is your good pleasure with me? 
 BARDOLPH 
                         My captain, sir, commends him to you; my captain, 
                         Sir John Falstaff, a tall gentleman, by heaven, and 
                         a most gallant leader. 
 SHALLOW 
                         He greets me well, sir. I knew him a good backsword 
                         man. How doth the good knight? may I ask how my 
                         lady his wife doth? 
 BARDOLPH 
                         Sir, pardon; a soldier is better accommodated than 
                         with a wife. 
 SHALLOW 
                         It is well said, in faith, sir; and it is well said 
                         indeed too. Better accommodated! it is good; yea, 
                         indeed, is it: good phrases are surely, and ever 
                         were, very commendable. Accommodated! it comes of 
                         'accommodo' very good; a good phrase. 
 BARDOLPH 
                         Pardon me, sir; I have heard the word. Phrase call 
                         you it? by this good day, I know not the phrase; 
                         but I will maintain the word with my sword to be a 
                         soldier-like word, and a word of exceeding good 
                         command, by heaven. Accommodated; that is, when a 
                         man is, as they say, accommodated; or when a man is, 
                         being, whereby a' may be thought to be accommodated; 
                         which is an excellent thing. 
 SHALLOW 
                         It is very just. 
                         [Enter FALSTAFF] 
                         Look, here comes good Sir John. Give me your good 
                         hand, give me your worship's good hand: by my 
                         troth, you like well and bear your years very well: 
                         welcome, good Sir John. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         I am glad to see you well, good Master Robert 
                         Shallow: Master Surecard, as I think? 
 SHALLOW 
                         No, Sir John; it is my cousin Silence, in commission with me. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Good Master Silence, it well befits you should be of 
                         the peace. 
 SILENCE 
                         Your good-worship is welcome. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Fie! this is hot weather, gentlemen. Have you 
                         provided me here half a dozen sufficient men? 
 SHALLOW 
                         Marry, have we, sir. Will you sit? 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Let me see them, I beseech you. 
 SHALLOW 
                         Where's the roll? where's the roll? where's the 
                         roll? Let me see, let me see, let me see. So, so: 
                         yea, marry, sir: Ralph Mouldy! Let them appear as 
                         I call; let them do so, let them do so. Let me 
                         see; where is Mouldy? 
 MOULDY 
                         Here, an't please you. 
 SHALLOW 
                         What think you, Sir John? a good-limbed fellow; 
                         young, strong, and of good friends. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Is thy name Mouldy? 
 MOULDY 
                         Yea, an't please you. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         'Tis the more time thou wert used. 
 SHALLOW 
                         Ha, ha, ha! most excellent, i' faith! Things that 
                         are mouldy lack use: very singular good! in faith, 
                         well said, Sir John, very well said. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Prick him. 
 MOULDY 
                         I was pricked well enough before, an you could have 
                         let me alone: my old dame will be undone now for 
                         one to do her husbandry and her drudgery: you need 
                         not to have pricked me; there are other men fitter 
                         to go out than I. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Go to: peace, Mouldy; you shall go. Mouldy, it is 
                         time you were spent. 
 MOULDY 
                         Spent! 
 SHALLOW 
                         Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside: know you where 
                         you are? For the other, Sir John: let me see: 
                         Simon Shadow! 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Yea, marry, let me have him to sit under: he's like 
                         to be a cold soldier. 
 SHALLOW 
                         Where's Shadow? 
 SHADOW 
                         Here, sir. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Shadow, whose son art thou? 
 SHADOW 
                         My mother's son, sir. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Thy mother's son! like enough, and thy father's 
                         shadow: so the son of the female is the shadow of 
                         the male: it is often so, indeed; but much of the 
                         father's substance! 
 SHALLOW 
                         Do you like him, Sir John? 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Shadow will serve for summer; prick him, for we have 
                         a number of shadows to fill up the muster-book. 
 SHALLOW 
                         Thomas Wart! 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Where's he? 
 WART 
                         Here, sir. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Is thy name Wart? 
 WART 
                         Yea, sir. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Thou art a very ragged wart. 
 SHALLOW 
                         Shall I prick him down, Sir John? 
 FALSTAFF 
                         It were superfluous; for his apparel is built upon 
                         his back and the whole frame stands upon pins: 
                         prick him no more. 
 SHALLOW 
                         Ha, ha, ha! you can do it, sir; you can do it: I 
                         commend you well. Francis Feeble! 
 FEEBLE 
                         Here, sir. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         What trade art thou, Feeble? 
 FEEBLE 
                         A woman's tailor, sir. 
 SHALLOW 
                         Shall I prick him, sir? 
 FALSTAFF 
                         You may: but if he had been a man's tailor, he'ld 
                         ha' pricked you. Wilt thou make as many holes in 
                         an enemy's battle as thou hast done in a woman's petticoat? 
 FEEBLE 
                         I will do my good will, sir; you can have no more. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Well said, good woman's tailor! well said, 
                         courageous Feeble! thou wilt be as valiant as the 
                         wrathful dove or most magnanimous mouse. Prick the 
                         woman's tailor: well, Master Shallow; deep, Master Shallow. 
 FEEBLE 
                         I would Wart might have gone, sir. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         I would thou wert a man's tailor, that thou mightst 
                         mend him and make him fit to go. I cannot put him 
                         to a private soldier that is the leader of so many 
                         thousands: let that suffice, most forcible Feeble. 
 FEEBLE 
                         It shall suffice, sir. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble. Who is next? 
 SHALLOW 
                         Peter Bullcalf o' the green! 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Yea, marry, let's see Bullcalf. 
 BULLCALF 
                         Here, sir. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         'Fore God, a likely fellow! Come, prick me Bullcalf 
                         till he roar again. 
 BULLCALF 
                         O Lord! good my lord captain,-- 
 FALSTAFF 
                         What, dost thou roar before thou art pricked? 
 BULLCALF 
                         O Lord, sir! I am a diseased man. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         What disease hast thou? 
 BULLCALF 
                         A whoreson cold, sir, a cough, sir, which I caught 
                         with ringing in the king's affairs upon his 
                         coronation-day, sir. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown; we wilt 
                         have away thy cold; and I will take such order that 
                         my friends shall ring for thee. Is here all? 
 SHALLOW 
                         Here is two more called than your number, you must 
                         have but four here, sir: and so, I pray you, go in 
                         with me to dinner. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarry 
                         dinner. I am glad to see you, by my troth, Master Shallow. 
 SHALLOW 
                         O, Sir John, do you remember since we lay all night 
                         in the windmill in Saint George's field? 
 FALSTAFF 
                         No more of that, good Master Shallow, no more of that. 
 SHALLOW 
                         Ha! 'twas a merry night. And is Jane Nightwork alive? 
 FALSTAFF 
                         She lives, Master Shallow. 
 SHALLOW 
                         She never could away with me. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Never, never; she would always say she could not 
                         abide Master Shallow. 
 SHALLOW 
                         By the mass, I could anger her to the heart. She 
                         was then a bona-roba. Doth she hold her own well? 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Old, old, Master Shallow. 
 SHALLOW 
                         Nay, she must be old; she cannot choose but be old; 
                         certain she's old; and had Robin Nightwork by old 
                         Nightwork before I came to Clement's Inn. 
 SILENCE 
                         That's fifty-five year ago. 
 SHALLOW 
                         Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that that 
                         this knight and I have seen! Ha, Sir John, said I well? 
 FALSTAFF 
                         We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow. 
 SHALLOW 
                         That we have, that we have, that we have; in faith, 
                         Sir John, we have: our watch-word was 'Hem boys!' 
                         Come, let's to dinner; come, let's to dinner: 
                         Jesus, the days that we have seen! Come, come. 
                         [Exeunt FALSTAFF and Justices] 
 BULLCALF 
                         Good Master Corporate Bardolph, stand my friend; 
                         and here's four Harry ten shillings in French crowns 
                         for you. In very truth, sir, I had as lief be 
                         hanged, sir, as go: and yet, for mine own part, sir, 
                         I do not care; but rather, because I am unwilling, 
                         and, for mine own part, have a desire to stay with 
                         my friends; else, sir, I did not care, for mine own 
                         part, so much. 
 BARDOLPH 
                         Go to; stand aside. 
 MOULDY 
                         And, good master corporal captain, for my old 
                         dame's sake, stand my friend: she has nobody to do 
                         any thing about her when I am gone; and she is old, 
                         and cannot help herself: You shall have forty, sir. 
 BARDOLPH 
                         Go to; stand aside. 
 FEEBLE 
                         By my troth, I care not; a man can die but once: we 
                         owe God a death: I'll ne'er bear a base mind: 
                         an't be my destiny, so; an't be not, so: no man is 
                         too good to serve's prince; and let it go which way 
                         it will, he that dies this year is quit for the next. 
 BARDOLPH 
                         Well said; thou'rt a good fellow. 
 FEEBLE 
                         Faith, I'll bear no base mind. 
                         [Re-enter FALSTAFF and the Justices] 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Come, sir, which men shall I have? 
 SHALLOW 
                         Four of which you please. 
 BARDOLPH 
                         Sir, a word with you: I have three pound to free 
                         Mouldy and Bullcalf. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Go to; well. 
 SHALLOW 
                         Come, Sir John, which four will you have? 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Do you choose for me. 
 SHALLOW 
                         Marry, then, Mouldy, Bullcalf, Feeble and Shadow. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Mouldy and Bullcalf: for you, Mouldy, stay at home 
                         till you are past service: and for your part, 
                         Bullcalf, grow till you come unto it: I will none of you. 
 SHALLOW 
                         Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself wrong: they are 
                         your likeliest men, and I would have you served with the best. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Will you tell me, Master Shallow, how to choose a 
                         man? Care I for the limb, the thewes, the stature, 
                         bulk, and big assemblance of a man! Give me the 
                         spirit, Master Shallow. Here's Wart; you see what a 
                         ragged appearance it is; a' shall charge you and 
                         discharge you with the motion of a pewterer's 
                         hammer, come off and on swifter than he that gibbets 
                         on the brewer's bucket. And this same half-faced 
                         fellow, Shadow; give me this man: he presents no 
                         mark to the enemy; the foeman may with as great aim 
                         level at the edge of a penknife. And for a retreat; 
                         how swiftly will this Feeble the woman's tailor run 
                         off! O, give me the spare men, and spare me the 
                         great ones. Put me a caliver into Wart's hand, Bardolph. 
 BARDOLPH 
                         Hold, Wart, traverse; thus, thus, thus. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Come, manage me your caliver. So: very well: go 
                         to: very good, exceeding good. O, give me always a 
                         little, lean, old, chapt, bald shot. Well said, i' 
                         faith, Wart; thou'rt a good scab: hold, there's a 
                         tester for thee. 
 SHALLOW 
                         He is not his craft's master; he doth not do it 
                         right. I remember at Mile-end Green, when I lay at 
                         Clement's Inn--I was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur's 
                         show,--there was a little quiver fellow, and a' 
                         would manage you his piece thus; and a' would about 
                         and about, and come you in and come you in: 'rah, 
                         tah, tah,' would a' say; 'bounce' would a' say; and 
                         away again would a' go, and again would a' come: I 
                         shall ne'er see such a fellow. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         These fellows will do well, Master Shallow. God 
                         keep you, Master Silence: I will not use many words 
                         with you. Fare you well, gentlemen both: I thank 
                         you: I must a dozen mile to-night. Bardolph, give 
                         the soldiers coats. 
 SHALLOW 
                         Sir John, the Lord bless you! God prosper your 
                         affairs! God send us peace! At your return visit 
                         our house; let our old acquaintance be renewed; 
                         peradventure I will with ye to the court. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         'Fore God, I would you would, Master Shallow. 
 SHALLOW 
                         Go to; I have spoke at a word. God keep you. 
 FALSTAFF 
                         Fare you well, gentle gentlemen. 
                         [Exeunt Justices] 
                         On, Bardolph; lead the men away. 
                         [Exeunt BARDOLPH, Recruits, &c] 
                         As I return, I will fetch off these justices: I do 
                         see the bottom of Justice Shallow. Lord, Lord, how 
                         subject we old men are to this vice of lying! This 
                         same starved justice hath done nothing but prate to 
                         me of the wildness of his youth, and the feats he 
                         hath done about Turnbull Street: and every third 
                         word a lie, duer paid to the hearer than the Turk's 
                         tribute. I do remember him at Clement's Inn like a 
                         man made after supper of a cheese-paring: when a' 
                         was naked, he was, for all the world, like a forked 
                         radish, with a head fantastically carved upon it 
                         with a knife: a' was so forlorn, that his 
                         dimensions to any thick sight were invincible: a' 
                         was the very genius of famine; yet lecherous as a 
                         monkey, and the whores called him mandrake: a' came 
                         ever in the rearward of the fashion, and sung those 
                         tunes to the overscutched huswives that he heard the 
                         carmen whistle, and swear they were his fancies or 
                         his good-nights. And now is this Vice's dagger 
                         become a squire, and talks as familiarly of John a 
                         Gaunt as if he had been sworn brother to him; and 
                         I'll be sworn a' ne'er saw him but once in the 
                         Tilt-yard; and then he burst his head for crowding 
                         among the marshal's men. I saw it, and told John a 
                         Gaunt he beat his own name; for you might have 
                         thrust him and all his apparel into an eel-skin; the 
                         case of a treble hautboy was a mansion for him, a 
                         court: and now has he land and beefs. Well, I'll 
                         be acquainted with him, if I return; and it shall 
                         go hard but I will make him a philosopher's two 
                         stones to me: if the young dace be a bait for the 
                         old pike, I see no reason in the law of nature but I 
                         may snap at him. Let time shape, and there an end. 
                         [Exit] 


Act IV

Scene I Yorkshire. Gaultree Forest.

                                         [Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, MOWBRAY, LORD 
                                         HASTINGS, and others] 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                         What is this forest call'd? 
 HASTINGS 
                                         'Tis Gaultree Forest, an't shall please your grace. 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                         Here stand, my lords; and send discoverers forth 
                                         To know the numbers of our enemies. 
 HASTINGS 
                                         We have sent forth already. 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                         'Tis well done. 
                                         My friends and brethren in these great affairs, 
                                         I must acquaint you that I have received 
                                         New-dated letters from Northumberland; 
                                         Their cold intent, tenor and substance, thus: 
                                         Here doth he wish his person, with such powers 
                                         As might hold sortance with his quality, 
                                         The which he could not levy; whereupon 
                                         He is retired, to ripe his growing fortunes, 
                                         To Scotland: and concludes in hearty prayers 
                                         That your attempts may overlive the hazard 
                                         And fearful melting of their opposite. 
 MOWBRAY 
                                         Thus do the hopes we have in him touch ground 
                                         And dash themselves to pieces. 
                                         [Enter a Messenger] 
 HASTINGS 
                                         Now, what news? 
 Messenger 
                                         West of this forest, scarcely off a mile, 
                                         In goodly form comes on the enemy; 
                                         And, by the ground they hide, I judge their number 
                                         Upon or near the rate of thirty thousand. 
 MOWBRAY 
                                         The just proportion that we gave them out 
                                         Let us sway on and face them in the field. 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                         What well-appointed leader fronts us here? 
                                         [Enter WESTMORELAND] 
 MOWBRAY 
                                         I think it is my Lord of Westmoreland. 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                         Health and fair greeting from our general, 
                                         The prince, Lord John and Duke of Lancaster. 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                         Say on, my Lord of Westmoreland, in peace: 
                                         What doth concern your coming? 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                         Then, my lord, 
                                         Unto your grace do I in chief address 
                                         The substance of my speech. If that rebellion 
                                         Came like itself, in base and abject routs, 
                                         Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rags, 
                                         And countenanced by boys and beggary, 
                                         I say, if damn'd commotion so appear'd, 
                                         In his true, native and most proper shape, 
                                         You, reverend father, and these noble lords 
                                         Had not been here, to dress the ugly form 
                                         Of base and bloody insurrection 
                                         With your fair honours. You, lord archbishop, 
                                         Whose see is by a civil peace maintained, 
                                         Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath touch'd, 
                                         Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutor'd, 
                                         Whose white investments figure innocence, 
                                         The dove and very blessed spirit of peace, 
                                         Wherefore do you so ill translate ourself 
                                         Out of the speech of peace that bears such grace, 
                                         Into the harsh and boisterous tongue of war; 
                                         Turning your books to graves, your ink to blood, 
                                         Your pens to lances and your tongue divine 
                                         To a trumpet and a point of war? 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                         Wherefore do I this? so the question stands. 
                                         Briefly to this end: we are all diseased, 
                                         And with our surfeiting and wanton hours 
                                         Have brought ourselves into a burning fever, 
                                         And we must bleed for it; of which disease 
                                         Our late king, Richard, being infected, died. 
                                         But, my most noble Lord of Westmoreland, 
                                         I take not on me here as a physician, 
                                         Nor do I as an enemy to peace 
                                         Troop in the throngs of military men; 
                                         But rather show awhile like fearful war, 
                                         To diet rank minds sick of happiness 
                                         And purge the obstructions which begin to stop 
                                         Our very veins of life. Hear me more plainly. 
                                         I have in equal balance justly weigh'd 
                                         What wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs we suffer, 
                                         And find our griefs heavier than our offences. 
                                         We see which way the stream of time doth run, 
                                         And are enforced from our most quiet there 
                                         By the rough torrent of occasion; 
                                         And have the summary of all our griefs, 
                                         When time shall serve, to show in articles; 
                                         Which long ere this we offer'd to the king, 
                                         And might by no suit gain our audience: 
                                         When we are wrong'd and would unfold our griefs, 
                                         We are denied access unto his person 
                                         Even by those men that most have done us wrong. 
                                         The dangers of the days but newly gone, 
                                         Whose memory is written on the earth 
                                         With yet appearing blood, and the examples 
                                         Of every minute's instance, present now, 
                                         Hath put us in these ill-beseeming arms, 
                                         Not to break peace or any branch of it, 
                                         But to establish here a peace indeed, 
                                         Concurring both in name and quality. 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                         When ever yet was your appeal denied? 
                                         Wherein have you been galled by the king? 
                                         What peer hath been suborn'd to grate on you, 
                                         That you should seal this lawless bloody book 
                                         Of forged rebellion with a seal divine 
                                         And consecrate commotion's bitter edge? 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                         My brother general, the commonwealth, 
                                         To brother born an household cruelty, 
                                         I make my quarrel in particular. 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                         There is no need of any such redress; 
                                         Or if there were, it not belongs to you. 
 MOWBRAY 
                                         Why not to him in part, and to us all 
                                         That feel the bruises of the days before, 
                                         And suffer the condition of these times 
                                         To lay a heavy and unequal hand 
                                         Upon our honours? 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                         O, my good Lord Mowbray, 
                                         Construe the times to their necessities, 
                                         And you shall say indeed, it is the time, 
                                         And not the king, that doth you injuries. 
                                         Yet for your part, it not appears to me 
                                         Either from the king or in the present time 
                                         That you should have an inch of any ground 
                                         To build a grief on: were you not restored 
                                         To all the Duke of Norfolk's signories, 
                                         Your noble and right well remember'd father's? 
 MOWBRAY 
                                         What thing, in honour, had my father lost, 
                                         That need to be revived and breathed in me? 
                                         The king that loved him, as the state stood then, 
                                         Was force perforce compell'd to banish him: 
                                         And then that Harry Bolingbroke and he, 
                                         Being mounted and both roused in their seats, 
                                         Their neighing coursers daring of the spur, 
                                         Their armed staves in charge, their beavers down, 
                                         Their eyes of fire sparking through sights of steel 
                                         And the loud trumpet blowing them together, 
                                         Then, then, when there was nothing could have stay'd 
                                         My father from the breast of Bolingbroke, 
                                         O when the king did throw his warder down, 
                                         His own life hung upon the staff he threw; 
                                         Then threw he down himself and all their lives 
                                         That by indictment and by dint of sword 
                                         Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke. 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                         You speak, Lord Mowbray, now you know not what. 
                                         The Earl of Hereford was reputed then 
                                         In England the most valiant gentlemen: 
                                         Who knows on whom fortune would then have smiled? 
                                         But if your father had been victor there, 
                                         He ne'er had borne it out of Coventry: 
                                         For all the country in a general voice 
                                         Cried hate upon him; and all their prayers and love 
                                         Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on 
                                         And bless'd and graced indeed, more than the king. 
                                         But this is mere digression from my purpose. 
                                         Here come I from our princely general 
                                         To know your griefs; to tell you from his grace 
                                         That he will give you audience; and wherein 
                                         It shall appear that your demands are just, 
                                         You shall enjoy them, every thing set off 
                                         That might so much as think you enemies. 
 MOWBRAY 
                                         But he hath forced us to compel this offer; 
                                         And it proceeds from policy, not love. 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                         Mowbray, you overween to take it so; 
                                         This offer comes from mercy, not from fear: 
                                         For, lo! within a ken our army lies, 
                                         Upon mine honour, all too confident 
                                         To give admittance to a thought of fear. 
                                         Our battle is more full of names than yours, 
                                         Our men more perfect in the use of arms, 
                                         Our armour all as strong, our cause the best; 
                                         Then reason will our heart should be as good 
                                         Say you not then our offer is compell'd. 
 MOWBRAY 
                                         Well, by my will we shall admit no parley. 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                         That argues but the shame of your offence: 
                                         A rotten case abides no handling. 
 HASTINGS 
                                         Hath the Prince John a full commission, 
                                         In very ample virtue of his father, 
                                         To hear and absolutely to determine 
                                         Of what conditions we shall stand upon? 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                         That is intended in the general's name: 
                                         I muse you make so slight a question. 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                         Then take, my Lord of Westmoreland, this schedule, 
                                         For this contains our general grievances: 
                                         Each several article herein redress'd, 
                                         All members of our cause, both here and hence, 
                                         That are insinew'd to this action, 
                                         Acquitted by a true substantial form 
                                         And present execution of our wills 
                                         To us and to our purposes confined, 
                                         We come within our awful banks again 
                                         And knit our powers to the arm of peace. 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                         This will I show the general. Please you, lords, 
                                         In sight of both our battles we may meet; 
                                         And either end in peace, which God so frame! 
                                         Or to the place of difference call the swords 
                                         Which must decide it. 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                         My lord, we will do so. 
                                         [Exit WESTMORELAND] 
 MOWBRAY 
                                         There is a thing within my bosom tells me 
                                         That no conditions of our peace can stand. 
 HASTINGS 
                                         Fear you not that: if we can make our peace 
                                         Upon such large terms and so absolute 
                                         As our conditions shall consist upon, 
                                         Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains. 
 MOWBRAY 
                                         Yea, but our valuation shall be such 
                                         That every slight and false-derived cause, 
                                         Yea, every idle, nice and wanton reason 
                                         Shall to the king taste of this action; 
                                         That, were our royal faiths martyrs in love, 
                                         We shall be winnow'd with so rough a wind 
                                         That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff 
                                         And good from bad find no partition. 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                         No, no, my lord. Note this; the king is weary 
                                         Of dainty and such picking grievances: 
                                         For he hath found to end one doubt by death 
                                         Revives two greater in the heirs of life, 
                                         And therefore will he wipe his tables clean 
                                         And keep no tell-tale to his memory 
                                         That may repeat and history his loss 
                                         To new remembrance; for full well he knows 
                                         He cannot so precisely weed this land 
                                         As his misdoubts present occasion: 
                                         His foes are so enrooted with his friends 
                                         That, plucking to unfix an enemy, 
                                         He doth unfasten so and shake a friend: 
                                         So that this land, like an offensive wife 
                                         That hath enraged him on to offer strokes, 
                                         As he is striking, holds his infant up 
                                         And hangs resolved correction in the arm 
                                         That was uprear'd to execution. 
 HASTINGS 
                                         Besides, the king hath wasted all his rods 
                                         On late offenders, that he now doth lack 
                                         The very instruments of chastisement: 
                                         So that his power, like to a fangless lion, 
                                         May offer, but not hold. 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                         'Tis very true: 
                                         And therefore be assured, my good lord marshal, 
                                         If we do now make our atonement well, 
                                         Our peace will, like a broken limb united, 
                                         Grow stronger for the breaking. 
 MOWBRAY 
                                         Be it so. 
                                         Here is return'd my Lord of Westmoreland. 
                                         [Re-enter WESTMORELAND] 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                         The prince is here at hand: pleaseth your lordship 
                                         To meet his grace just distance 'tween our armies. 
 MOWBRAY 
                                         Your grace of York, in God's name then, set forward. 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                         Before, and greet his grace: my lord, we come. 
                                         [Exeunt] 



Scene II Another part of the forest.

                                        [Enter, from one side, MOWBRAY, attended; afterwards 
                                        the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, HASTINGS, and others: from 
                                        the other side, Prince John of LANCASTER, and 
                                        WESTMORELAND; Officers, and others with them] 
 LANCASTER 
                                        You are well encounter'd here, my cousin Mowbray: 
                                        Good day to you, gentle lord archbishop; 
                                        And so to you, Lord Hastings, and to all. 
                                        My Lord of York, it better show'd with you 
                                        When that your flock, assembled by the bell, 
                                        Encircled you to hear with reverence 
                                        Your exposition on the holy text 
                                        Than now to see you here an iron man, 
                                        Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum, 
                                        Turning the word to sword and life to death. 
                                        That man that sits within a monarch's heart, 
                                        And ripens in the sunshine of his favour, 
                                        Would he abuse the countenance of the king, 
                                        Alack, what mischiefs might he set abrooch 
                                        In shadow of such greatness! With you, lord bishop, 
                                        It is even so. Who hath not heard it spoken 
                                        How deep you were within the books of God? 
                                        To us the speaker in his parliament; 
                                        To us the imagined voice of God himself; 
                                        The very opener and intelligencer 
                                        Between the grace, the sanctities of heaven 
                                        And our dull workings. O, who shall believe 
                                        But you misuse the reverence of your place, 
                                        Employ the countenance and grace of heaven, 
                                        As a false favourite doth his prince's name, 
                                        In deeds dishonourable? You have ta'en up, 
                                        Under the counterfeited zeal of God, 
                                        The subjects of his substitute, my father, 
                                        And both against the peace of heaven and him 
                                        Have here up-swarm'd them. 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                        Good my Lord of Lancaster, 
                                        I am not here against your father's peace; 
                                        But, as I told my lord of Westmoreland, 
                                        The time misorder'd doth, in common sense, 
                                        Crowd us and crush us to this monstrous form, 
                                        To hold our safety up. I sent your grace 
                                        The parcels and particulars of our grief, 
                                        The which hath been with scorn shoved from the court, 
                                        Whereon this Hydra son of war is born; 
                                        Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd asleep 
                                        With grant of our most just and right desires, 
                                        And true obedience, of this madness cured, 
                                        Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty. 
 MOWBRAY 
                                        If not, we ready are to try our fortunes 
                                        To the last man. 
 HASTINGS 
                                        And though we here fall down, 
                                        We have supplies to second our attempt: 
                                        If they miscarry, theirs shall second them; 
                                        And so success of mischief shall be born 
                                        And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up 
                                        Whiles England shall have generation. 
 LANCASTER 
                                        You are too shallow, Hastings, much too shallow, 
                                        To sound the bottom of the after-times. 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                        Pleaseth your grace to answer them directly 
                                        How far forth you do like their articles. 
 LANCASTER 
                                        I like them all, and do allow them well, 
                                        And swear here, by the honour of my blood, 
                                        My father's purposes have been mistook, 
                                        And some about him have too lavishly 
                                        Wrested his meaning and authority. 
                                        My lord, these griefs shall be with speed redress'd; 
                                        Upon my soul, they shall. If this may please you, 
                                        Discharge your powers unto their several counties, 
                                        As we will ours: and here between the armies 
                                        Let's drink together friendly and embrace, 
                                        That all their eyes may bear those tokens home 
                                        Of our restored love and amity. 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                        I take your princely word for these redresses. 
 LANCASTER 
                                        I give it you, and will maintain my word: 
                                        And thereupon I drink unto your grace. 
 HASTINGS 
                                        Go, captain, and deliver to the army 
                                        This news of peace: let them have pay, and part: 
                                        I know it will well please them. Hie thee, captain. 
                                        [Exit Officer] 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                        To you, my noble Lord of Westmoreland. 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                        I pledge your grace; and, if you knew what pains 
                                        I have bestow'd to breed this present peace, 
                                        You would drink freely: but my love to ye 
                                        Shall show itself more openly hereafter. 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                        I do not doubt you. 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                        I am glad of it. 
                                        Health to my lord and gentle cousin, Mowbray. 
 MOWBRAY 
                                        You wish me health in very happy season; 
                                        For I am, on the sudden, something ill. 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                        Against ill chances men are ever merry; 
                                        But heaviness foreruns the good event. 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                        Therefore be merry, coz; since sudden sorrow 
                                        Serves to say thus, 'some good thing comes 
                                        to-morrow.' 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                        Believe me, I am passing light in spirit. 
 MOWBRAY 
                                        So much the worse, if your own rule be true. 
                                        [Shouts within] 
 LANCASTER 
                                        The word of peace is render'd: hark, how they shout! 
 MOWBRAY 
                                        This had been cheerful after victory. 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                        A peace is of the nature of a conquest; 
                                        For then both parties nobly are subdued, 
                                        And neither party loser. 
 LANCASTER 
                                        Go, my lord, 
                                        And let our army be discharged too. 
                                        [Exit WESTMORELAND] 
                                        And, good my lord, so please you, let our trains 
                                        March, by us, that we may peruse the men 
                                        We should have coped withal. 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                        Go, good Lord Hastings, 
                                        And, ere they be dismissed, let them march by. 
                                        [Exit HASTINGS] 
 LANCASTER 
                                        I trust, lords, we shall lie to-night together. 
                                        [Re-enter WESTMORELAND] 
                                        Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still? 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                        The leaders, having charge from you to stand, 
                                        Will not go off until they hear you speak. 
 LANCASTER 
                                        They know their duties. 
                                        [Re-enter HASTINGS] 
 HASTINGS 
                                        My lord, our army is dispersed already; 
                                        Like youthful steers unyoked, they take their courses 
                                        East, west, north, south; or, like a school broke up, 
                                        Each hurries toward his home and sporting-place. 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                        Good tidings, my Lord Hastings; for the which 
                                        I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason: 
                                        And you, lord archbishop, and you, Lord Mowbray, 
                                        Of capitol treason I attach you both. 
 MOWBRAY 
                                        Is this proceeding just and honourable? 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                        Is your assembly so? 
 ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 
                                        Will you thus break your faith? 
 LANCASTER 
                                        I pawn'd thee none: 
                                        I promised you redress of these same grievances 
                                        Whereof you did complain; which, by mine honour, 
                                        I will perform with a most Christian care. 
                                        But for you, rebels, look to taste the due 
                                        Meet for rebellion and such acts as yours. 
                                        Most shallowly did you these arms commence, 
                                        Fondly brought here and foolishly sent hence. 
                                        Strike up our drums, pursue the scatter'd stray: 
                                        God, and not we, hath safely fought to-day. 
                                        Some guard these traitors to the block of death, 
                                        Treason's true bed and yielder up of breath. 
                                        [Exeunt] 



Scene III Another part of the forest.

                                [Alarum. Excursions. Enter FALSTAFF and COLEVILE, meeting] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                What's your name, sir? of what condition are you, 
                                and of what place, I pray? 
 COLEVILE 
                                I am a knight, sir, and my name is Colevile of the dale. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                Well, then, Colevile is your name, a knight is your 
                                degree, and your place the dale: Colevile shall be 
                                still your name, a traitor your degree, and the 
                                dungeon your place, a place deep enough; so shall 
                                you be still Colevile of the dale. 
 COLEVILE 
                                Are not you Sir John Falstaff? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                As good a man as he, sir, whoe'er I am. Do ye 
                                yield, sir? or shall I sweat for you? if I do 
                                sweat, they are the drops of thy lovers, and they 
                                weep for thy death: therefore rouse up fear and 
                                trembling, and do observance to my mercy. 
 COLEVILE 
                                I think you are Sir John Falstaff, and in that 
                                thought yield me. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                I have a whole school of tongues in this belly of 
                                mine, and not a tongue of them all speaks any other 
                                word but my name. An I had but a belly of any 
                                indifference, I were simply the most active fellow 
                                in Europe: my womb, my womb, my womb, undoes me. 
                                Here comes our general. 
                                [Enter PRINCE JOHN OF LANCASTER, WESTMORELAND, 
                                BLUNT, and others] 
 LANCASTER 
                                The heat is past; follow no further now: 
                                Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland. 
                                [Exit WESTMORELAND] 
                                Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while? 
                                When every thing is ended, then you come: 
                                These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life, 
                                One time or other break some gallows' back. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be thus: I 
                                never knew yet but rebuke and cheque was the reward 
                                of valour. Do you think me a swallow, an arrow, or a 
                                bullet? have I, in my poor and old motion, the 
                                expedition of thought? I have speeded hither with 
                                the very extremest inch of possibility; I have 
                                foundered nine score and odd posts: and here, 
                                travel-tainted as I am, have in my pure and 
                                immaculate valour, taken Sir John Colevile of the 
                                dale, a most furious knight and valorous enemy. 
                                But what of that? he saw me, and yielded; that I 
                                may justly say, with the hook-nosed fellow of Rome, 
                                'I came, saw, and overcame.' 
 LANCASTER 
                                It was more of his courtesy than your deserving. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                I know not: here he is, and here I yield him: and 
                                I beseech your grace, let it be booked with the 
                                rest of this day's deeds; or, by the Lord, I will 
                                have it in a particular ballad else, with mine own 
                                picture on the top on't, Colevile kissing my foot: 
                                to the which course if I be enforced, if you do not 
                                all show like gilt twopences to me, and I in the 
                                clear sky of fame o'ershine you as much as the full 
                                moon doth the cinders of the element, which show 
                                like pins' heads to her, believe not the word of 
                                the noble: therefore let me have right, and let 
                                desert mount. 
 LANCASTER 
                                Thine's too heavy to mount. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                Let it shine, then. 
 LANCASTER 
                                Thine's too thick to shine. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                Let it do something, my good lord, that may do me 
                                good, and call it what you will. 
 LANCASTER 
                                Is thy name Colevile? 
 COLEVILE 
                                It is, my lord. 
 LANCASTER 
                                A famous rebel art thou, Colevile. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                And a famous true subject took him. 
 COLEVILE 
                                I am, my lord, but as my betters are 
                                That led me hither: had they been ruled by me, 
                                You should have won them dearer than you have. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                I know not how they sold themselves: but thou, like 
                                a kind fellow, gavest thyself away gratis; and I 
                                thank thee for thee. 
                                [Re-enter WESTMORELAND] 
 LANCASTER 
                                Now, have you left pursuit? 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                Retreat is made and execution stay'd. 
 LANCASTER 
                                Send Colevile with his confederates 
                                To York, to present execution: 
                                Blunt, lead him hence; and see you guard him sure. 
                                [Exeunt BLUNT and others with COLEVILE] 
                                And now dispatch we toward the court, my lords: 
                                I hear the king my father is sore sick: 
                                Our news shall go before us to his majesty, 
                                Which, cousin, you shall bear to comfort him, 
                                And we with sober speed will follow you. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                My lord, I beseech you, give me leave to go 
                                Through Gloucestershire: and, when you come to court, 
                                Stand my good lord, pray, in your good report. 
 LANCASTER 
                                Fare you well, Falstaff: I, in my condition, 
                                Shall better speak of you than you deserve. 
                                [Exeunt all but Falstaff] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                I would you had but the wit: 'twere better than 
                                your dukedom. Good faith, this same young sober- 
                                blooded boy doth not love me; nor a man cannot make 
                                him laugh; but that's no marvel, he drinks no wine. 
                                There's never none of these demure boys come to any 
                                proof; for thin drink doth so over-cool their blood, 
                                and making many fish-meals, that they fall into a 
                                kind of male green-sickness; and then when they 
                                marry, they get wenches: they are generally fools 
                                and cowards; which some of us should be too, but for 
                                inflammation. A good sherris sack hath a two-fold 
                                operation in it. It ascends me into the brain; 
                                dries me there all the foolish and dull and curdy 
                                vapours which environ it; makes it apprehensive, 
                                quick, forgetive, full of nimble fiery and 
                                delectable shapes, which, delivered o'er to the 
                                voice, the tongue, which is the birth, becomes 
                                excellent wit. The second property of your 
                                excellent sherris is, the warming of the blood; 
                                which, before cold and settled, left the liver 
                                white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity 
                                and cowardice; but the sherris warms it and makes 
                                it course from the inwards to the parts extreme: 
                                it illumineth the face, which as a beacon gives 
                                warning to all the rest of this little kingdom, 
                                man, to arm; and then the vital commoners and 
                                inland petty spirits muster me all to their captain, 
                                the heart, who, great and puffed up with this 
                                retinue, doth any deed of courage; and this valour 
                                comes of sherris. So that skill in the weapon is 
                                nothing without sack, for that sets it a-work; and 
                                learning a mere hoard of gold kept by a devil, till 
                                sack commences it and sets it in act and use. 
                                Hereof comes it that Prince Harry is valiant; for 
                                the cold blood he did naturally inherit of his 
                                father, he hath, like lean, sterile and bare land, 
                                manured, husbanded and tilled with excellent 
                                endeavour of drinking good and good store of fertile 
                                sherris, that he is become very hot and valiant. If 
                                I had a thousand sons, the first humane principle I 
                                would teach them should be, to forswear thin 
                                potations and to addict themselves to sack. 
                                [Enter BARDOLPH] 
                                How now Bardolph? 
 BARDOLPH 
                                The army is discharged all and gone. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                Let them go. I'll through Gloucestershire; and 
                                there will I visit Master Robert Shallow, esquire: 
                                I have him already tempering between my finger and 
                                my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him. Come away. 
                                [Exeunt] 



Scene IV Westminster. The Jerusalem Chamber.

                                 [Enter KING HENRY IV, the Princes Thomas of CLARENCE 
                                 and Humphrey of GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, and others] 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                 Now, lords, if God doth give successful end 
                                 To this debate that bleedeth at our doors, 
                                 We will our youth lead on to higher fields 
                                 And draw no swords but what are sanctified. 
                                 Our navy is address'd, our power collected, 
                                 Our substitutes in absence well invested, 
                                 And every thing lies level to our wish: 
                                 Only, we want a little personal strength; 
                                 And pause us, till these rebels, now afoot, 
                                 Come underneath the yoke of government. 
 WARWICK 
                                 Both which we doubt not but your majesty 
                                 Shall soon enjoy. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                 Humphrey, my son of Gloucester, 
                                 Where is the prince your brother? 
 GLOUCESTER 
                                 I think he's gone to hunt, my lord, at Windsor. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                 And how accompanied? 
 GLOUCESTER 
                                 I do not know, my lord. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                 Is not his brother, Thomas of Clarence, with him? 
 GLOUCESTER 
                                 No, my good lord; he is in presence here. 
 CLARENCE 
                                 What would my lord and father? 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                 Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence. 
                                 How chance thou art not with the prince thy brother? 
                                 He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas; 
                                 Thou hast a better place in his affection 
                                 Than all thy brothers: cherish it, my boy, 
                                 And noble offices thou mayst effect 
                                 Of mediation, after I am dead, 
                                 Between his greatness and thy other brethren: 
                                 Therefore omit him not; blunt not his love, 
                                 Nor lose the good advantage of his grace 
                                 By seeming cold or careless of his will; 
                                 For he is gracious, if he be observed: 
                                 He hath a tear for pity and a hand 
                                 Open as day for melting charity: 
                                 Yet notwithstanding, being incensed, he's flint, 
                                 As humorous as winter and as sudden 
                                 As flaws congealed in the spring of day. 
                                 His temper, therefore, must be well observed: 
                                 Chide him for faults, and do it reverently, 
                                 When thou perceive his blood inclined to mirth; 
                                 But, being moody, give him line and scope, 
                                 Till that his passions, like a whale on ground, 
                                 Confound themselves with working. Learn this, Thomas, 
                                 And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends, 
                                 A hoop of gold to bind thy brothers in, 
                                 That the united vessel of their blood, 
                                 Mingled with venom of suggestion-- 
                                 As, force perforce, the age will pour it in-- 
                                 Shall never leak, though it do work as strong 
                                 As aconitum or rash gunpowder. 
 CLARENCE 
                                 I shall observe him with all care and love. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                 Why art thou not at Windsor with him, Thomas? 
 CLARENCE 
                                 He is not there to-day; he dines in London. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                 And how accompanied? canst thou tell that? 
 CLARENCE 
                                 With Poins, and other his continual followers. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                 Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds; 
                                 And he, the noble image of my youth, 
                                 Is overspread with them: therefore my grief 
                                 Stretches itself beyond the hour of death: 
                                 The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape 
                                 In forms imaginary the unguided days 
                                 And rotten times that you shall look upon 
                                 When I am sleeping with my ancestors. 
                                 For when his headstrong riot hath no curb, 
                                 When rage and hot blood are his counsellors, 
                                 When means and lavish manners meet together, 
                                 O, with what wings shall his affections fly 
                                 Towards fronting peril and opposed decay! 
 WARWICK 
                                 My gracious lord, you look beyond him quite: 
                                 The prince but studies his companions 
                                 Like a strange tongue, wherein, to gain the language, 
                                 'Tis needful that the most immodest word 
                                 Be look'd upon and learn'd; which once attain'd, 
                                 Your highness knows, comes to no further use 
                                 But to be known and hated. So, like gross terms, 
                                 The prince will in the perfectness of time 
                                 Cast off his followers; and their memory 
                                 Shall as a pattern or a measure live, 
                                 By which his grace must mete the lives of others, 
                                 Turning past evils to advantages. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                 'Tis seldom when the bee doth leave her comb 
                                 In the dead carrion. 
                                 [Enter WESTMORELAND] 
                                 Who's here? Westmoreland? 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                 Health to my sovereign, and new happiness 
                                 Added to that that I am to deliver! 
                                 Prince John your son doth kiss your grace's hand: 
                                 Mowbray, the Bishop Scroop, Hastings and all 
                                 Are brought to the correction of your law; 
                                 There is not now a rebel's sword unsheath'd 
                                 But peace puts forth her olive every where. 
                                 The manner how this action hath been borne 
                                 Here at more leisure may your highness read, 
                                 With every course in his particular. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                 O Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird, 
                                 Which ever in the haunch of winter sings 
                                 The lifting up of day. 
                                 [Enter HARCOURT] 
                                 Look, here's more news. 
 HARCOURT 
                                 From enemies heaven keep your majesty; 
                                 And, when they stand against you, may they fall 
                                 As those that I am come to tell you of! 
                                 The Earl Northumberland and the Lord Bardolph, 
                                 With a great power of English and of Scots 
                                 Are by the sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown: 
                                 The manner and true order of the fight 
                                 This packet, please it you, contains at large. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                 And wherefore should these good news make me sick? 
                                 Will fortune never come with both hands full, 
                                 But write her fair words still in foulest letters? 
                                 She either gives a stomach and no food; 
                                 Such are the poor, in health; or else a feast 
                                 And takes away the stomach; such are the rich, 
                                 That have abundance and enjoy it not. 
                                 I should rejoice now at this happy news; 
                                 And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy: 
                                 O me! come near me; now I am much ill. 
 GLOUCESTER 
                                 Comfort, your majesty! 
 CLARENCE 
                                 O my royal father! 
 WESTMORELAND 
                                 My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look up. 
 WARWICK 
                                 Be patient, princes; you do know, these fits 
                                 Are with his highness very ordinary. 
                                 Stand from him. Give him air; he'll straight be well. 
 CLARENCE 
                                 No, no, he cannot long hold out these pangs: 
                                 The incessant care and labour of his mind 
                                 Hath wrought the mure that should confine it in 
                                 So thin that life looks through and will break out. 
 GLOUCESTER 
                                 The people fear me; for they do observe 
                                 Unfather'd heirs and loathly births of nature: 
                                 The seasons change their manners, as the year 
                                 Had found some months asleep and leap'd them over. 
 CLARENCE 
                                 The river hath thrice flow'd, no ebb between; 
                                 And the old folk, time's doting chronicles, 
                                 Say it did so a little time before 
                                 That our great-grandsire, Edward, sick'd and died. 
 WARWICK 
                                 Speak lower, princes, for the king recovers. 
 GLOUCESTER 
                                 This apoplexy will certain be his end. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                 I pray you, take me up, and bear me hence 
                                 Into some other chamber: softly, pray. 



Scene V Another chamber.

                             [KING HENRY IV lying on a bed: CLARENCE, 
                             GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, and others in attendance] 
 KING HENRY IV 
                             Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends; 
                             Unless some dull and favourable hand 
                             Will whisper music to my weary spirit. 
 WARWICK 
                             Call for the music in the other room. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                             Set me the crown upon my pillow here. 
 CLARENCE 
                             His eye is hollow, and he changes much. 
 WARWICK 
                             Less noise, less noise! 
                             [Enter PRINCE HENRY] 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                             Who saw the Duke of Clarence? 
 CLARENCE 
                             I am here, brother, full of heaviness. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                             How now! rain within doors, and none abroad! 
                             How doth the king? 
 GLOUCESTER 
                             Exceeding ill. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                             Heard he the good news yet? 
                             Tell it him. 
 GLOUCESTER 
                             He alter'd much upon the hearing it. 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                             If he be sick with joy, he'll recover without physic. 
 WARWICK 
                             Not so much noise, my lords: sweet prince, 
                             speak low; 
                             The king your father is disposed to sleep. 
 CLARENCE 
                             Let us withdraw into the other room. 
 WARWICK 
                             Will't please your grace to go along with us? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                             No; I will sit and watch here by the king. 
                             [Exeunt all but PRINCE HENRY] 
                             Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow, 
                             Being so troublesome a bedfellow? 
                             O polish'd perturbation! golden care! 
                             That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide 
                             To many a watchful night! sleep with it now! 
                             Yet not so sound and half so deeply sweet 
                             As he whose brow with homely biggen bound 
                             Snores out the watch of night. O majesty! 
                             When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit 
                             Like a rich armour worn in heat of day, 
                             That scalds with safety. By his gates of breath 
                             There lies a downy feather which stirs not: 
                             Did he suspire, that light and weightless down 
                             Perforce must move. My gracious lord! my father! 
                             This sleep is sound indeed, this is a sleep 
                             That from this golden rigol hath divorced 
                             So many English kings. Thy due from me 
                             Is tears and heavy sorrows of the blood, 
                             Which nature, love, and filial tenderness, 
                             Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously: 
                             My due from thee is this imperial crown, 
                             Which, as immediate as thy place and blood, 
                             Derives itself to me. Lo, here it sits, 
                             Which God shall guard: and put the world's whole strength 
                             Into one giant arm, it shall not force 
                             This lineal honour from me: this from thee 
                             Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me. 
                             [Exit] 
 KING HENRY IV 
                             Warwick! Gloucester! Clarence! 
                             [Re-enter WARWICK, GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and the rest] 
 CLARENCE 
                             Doth the king call? 
 WARWICK 
                             What would your majesty? How fares your grace? 
 KING HENRY IV 
                             Why did you leave me here alone, my lords? 
 CLARENCE 
                             We left the prince my brother here, my liege, 
                             Who undertook to sit and watch by you. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                             The Prince of Wales! Where is he? let me see him: 
                             He is not here. 
 WARWICK 
                             This door is open; he is gone this way. 
 GLOUCESTER 
                             He came not through the chamber where we stay'd. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                             Where is the crown? who took it from my pillow? 
 WARWICK 
                             When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                             The prince hath ta'en it hence: go, seek him out. 
                             Is he so hasty that he doth suppose 
                             My sleep my death? 
                             Find him, my Lord of Warwick; chide him hither. 
                             [Exit WARWICK] 
                             This part of his conjoins with my disease, 
                             And helps to end me. See, sons, what things you are! 
                             How quickly nature falls into revolt 
                             When gold becomes her object! 
                             For this the foolish over-careful fathers 
                             Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with care, 
                             Their bones with industry; 
                             For this they have engrossed and piled up 
                             The canker'd heaps of strange-achieved gold; 
                             For this they have been thoughtful to invest 
                             Their sons with arts and martial exercises: 
                             When, like the bee, culling from every flower 
                             The virtuous sweets, 
                             Our thighs pack'd with wax, our mouths with honey, 
                             We bring it to the hive, and, like the bees, 
                             Are murdered for our pains. This bitter taste 
                             Yield his engrossments to the ending father. 
                             [Re-enter WARWICK] 
                             Now, where is he that will not stay so long 
                             Till his friend sickness hath determined me? 
 WARWICK 
                             My lord, I found the prince in the next room, 
                             Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks, 
                             With such a deep demeanor in great sorrow 
                             That tyranny, which never quaff'd but blood, 
                             Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knife 
                             With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                             But wherefore did he take away the crown? 
                             [Re-enter PRINCE HENRY] 
                             Lo, where he comes. Come hither to me, Harry. 
                             Depart the chamber, leave us here alone. 
                             [Exeunt WARWICK and the rest] 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                             I never thought to hear you speak again. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                             Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought: 
                             I stay too long by thee, I weary thee. 
                             Dost thou so hunger for mine empty chair 
                             That thou wilt needs invest thee with my honours 
                             Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth! 
                             Thou seek'st the greatness that will o'erwhelm thee. 
                             Stay but a little; for my cloud of dignity 
                             Is held from falling with so weak a wind 
                             That it will quickly drop: my day is dim. 
                             Thou hast stolen that which after some few hours 
                             Were thine without offence; and at my death 
                             Thou hast seal'd up my expectation: 
                             Thy life did manifest thou lovedst me not, 
                             And thou wilt have me die assured of it. 
                             Thou hidest a thousand daggers in thy thoughts, 
                             Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart, 
                             To stab at half an hour of my life. 
                             What! canst thou not forbear me half an hour? 
                             Then get thee gone and dig my grave thyself, 
                             And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear 
                             That thou art crowned, not that I am dead. 
                             Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse 
                             Be drops of balm to sanctify thy head: 
                             Only compound me with forgotten dust 
                             Give that which gave thee life unto the worms. 
                             Pluck down my officers, break my decrees; 
                             For now a time is come to mock at form: 
                             Harry the Fifth is crown'd: up, vanity! 
                             Down, royal state! all you sage counsellors, hence! 
                             And to the English court assemble now, 
                             From every region, apes of idleness! 
                             Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum: 
                             Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, dance, 
                             Revel the night, rob, murder, and commit 
                             The oldest sins the newest kind of ways? 
                             Be happy, he will trouble you no more; 
                             England shall double gild his treble guilt, 
                             England shall give him office, honour, might; 
                             For the fifth Harry from curb'd licence plucks 
                             The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog 
                             Shall flesh his tooth on every innocent. 
                             O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows! 
                             When that my care could not withhold thy riots, 
                             What wilt thou do when riot is thy care? 
                             O, thou wilt be a wilderness again, 
                             Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants! 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                             O, pardon me, my liege! but for my tears, 
                             The moist impediments unto my speech, 
                             I had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke 
                             Ere you with grief had spoke and I had heard 
                             The course of it so far. There is your crown; 
                             And He that wears the crown immortally 
                             Long guard it yours! If I affect it more 
                             Than as your honour and as your renown, 
                             Let me no more from this obedience rise, 
                             Which my most inward true and duteous spirit 
                             Teacheth, this prostrate and exterior bending. 
                             God witness with me, when I here came in, 
                             And found no course of breath within your majesty, 
                             How cold it struck my heart! If I do feign, 
                             O, let me in my present wildness die 
                             And never live to show the incredulous world 
                             The noble change that I have purposed! 
                             Coming to look on you, thinking you dead, 
                             And dead almost, my liege, to think you were, 
                             I spake unto this crown as having sense, 
                             And thus upbraided it: 'The care on thee depending 
                             Hath fed upon the body of my father; 
                             Therefore, thou best of gold art worst of gold: 
                             Other, less fine in carat, is more precious, 
                             Preserving life in medicine potable; 
                             But thou, most fine, most honour'd: most renown'd, 
                             Hast eat thy bearer up.' Thus, my most royal liege, 
                             Accusing it, I put it on my head, 
                             To try with it, as with an enemy 
                             That had before my face murder'd my father, 
                             The quarrel of a true inheritor. 
                             But if it did infect my blood with joy, 
                             Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride; 
                             If any rebel or vain spirit of mine 
                             Did with the least affection of a welcome 
                             Give entertainment to the might of it, 
                             Let God for ever keep it from my head 
                             And make me as the poorest vassal is 
                             That doth with awe and terror kneel to it! 
 KING HENRY IV 
                             O my son, 
                             God put it in thy mind to take it hence, 
                             That thou mightst win the more thy father's love, 
                             Pleading so wisely in excuse of it! 
                             Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed; 
                             And hear, I think, the very latest counsel 
                             That ever I shall breathe. God knows, my son, 
                             By what by-paths and indirect crook'd ways 
                             I met this crown; and I myself know well 
                             How troublesome it sat upon my head. 
                             To thee it shall descend with bitter quiet, 
                             Better opinion, better confirmation; 
                             For all the soil of the achievement goes 
                             With me into the earth. It seem'd in me 
                             But as an honour snatch'd with boisterous hand, 
                             And I had many living to upbraid 
                             My gain of it by their assistances; 
                             Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed, 
                             Wounding supposed peace: all these bold fears 
                             Thou see'st with peril I have answered; 
                             For all my reign hath been but as a scene 
                             Acting that argument: and now my death 
                             Changes the mode; for what in me was purchased, 
                             Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort; 
                             So thou the garland wear'st successively. 
                             Yet, though thou stand'st more sure than I could do, 
                             Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green; 
                             And all my friends, which thou must make thy friends, 
                             Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out; 
                             By whose fell working I was first advanced 
                             And by whose power I well might lodge a fear 
                             To be again displaced: which to avoid, 
                             I cut them off; and had a purpose now 
                             To lead out many to the Holy Land, 
                             Lest rest and lying still might make them look 
                             Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry, 
                             Be it thy course to busy giddy minds 
                             With foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne out, 
                             May waste the memory of the former days. 
                             More would I, but my lungs are wasted so 
                             That strength of speech is utterly denied me. 
                             How I came by the crown, O God forgive; 
                             And grant it may with thee in true peace live! 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                             My gracious liege, 
                             You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me; 
                             Then plain and right must my possession be: 
                             Which I with more than with a common pain 
                             'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain. 
                             [Enter Lord John of LANCASTER] 
 KING HENRY IV 
                             Look, look, here comes my John of Lancaster. 
 LANCASTER 
                             Health, peace, and happiness to my royal father! 
 KING HENRY IV 
                             Thou bring'st me happiness and peace, son John; 
                             But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown 
                             From this bare wither'd trunk: upon thy sight 
                             My worldly business makes a period. 
                             Where is my Lord of Warwick? 
 PRINCE HENRY 
                             My Lord of Warwick! 
                             [Enter WARWICK, and others] 
 KING HENRY IV 
                             Doth any name particular belong 
                             Unto the lodging where I first did swoon? 
 WARWICK 
                             'Tis call'd Jerusalem, my noble lord. 
 KING HENRY IV 
                             Laud be to God! even there my life must end. 
                             It hath been prophesied to me many years, 
                             I should not die but in Jerusalem; 
                             Which vainly I supposed the Holy Land: 
                             But bear me to that chamber; there I'll lie; 
                             In that Jerusalem shall Harry die. 
                             [Exeunt] 


Act V

Scene I Gloucestershire. SHALLOW'S house.

                          [Enter SHALLOW, FALSTAFF, BARDOLPH, and Page] 
 SHALLOW 
                          By cock and pie, sir, you shall not away to-night. 
                          What, Davy, I say! 
 FALSTAFF 
                          You must excuse me, Master Robert Shallow. 
 SHALLOW 
                          I will not excuse you; you shall not be excused; 
                          excuses shall not be admitted; there is no excuse 
                          shall serve; you shall not be excused. Why, Davy! 
                          [Enter DAVY] 
 DAVY 
                          Here, sir. 
 SHALLOW 
                          Davy, Davy, Davy, Davy, let me see, Davy; let me 
                          see, Davy; let me see: yea, marry, William cook, 
                          bid him come hither. Sir John, you shall not be excused. 
 DAVY 
                          Marry, sir, thus; those precepts cannot be served: 
                          and, again, sir, shall we sow the headland with wheat? 
 SHALLOW 
                          With red wheat, Davy. But for William cook: are 
                          there no young pigeons? 
 DAVY 
                          Yes, sir. Here is now the smith's note for shoeing 
                          and plough-irons. 
 SHALLOW 
                          Let it be cast and paid. Sir John, you shall not be excused. 
 DAVY 
                          Now, sir, a new link to the bucket must need be 
                          had: and, sir, do you mean to stop any of William's 
                          wages, about the sack he lost the other day at 
                          Hinckley fair? 
 SHALLOW 
                          A' shall answer it. Some pigeons, Davy, a couple 
                          of short-legged hens, a joint of mutton, and any 
                          pretty little tiny kickshaws, tell William cook. 
 DAVY 
                          Doth the man of war stay all night, sir? 
 SHALLOW 
                          Yea, Davy. I will use him well: a friend i' the 
                          court is better than a penny in purse. Use his men 
                          well, Davy; for they are arrant knaves, and will backbite. 
 DAVY 
                          No worse than they are backbitten, sir; for they 
                          have marvellous foul linen. 
 SHALLOW 
                          Well conceited, Davy: about thy business, Davy. 
 DAVY 
                          I beseech you, sir, to countenance William Visor of 
                          Woncot against Clement Perkes of the hill. 
 SHALLOW 
                          There is many complaints, Davy, against that Visor: 
                          that Visor is an arrant knave, on my knowledge. 
 DAVY 
                          I grant your worship that he is a knave, sir; but 
                          yet, God forbid, sir, but a knave should have some 
                          countenance at his friend's request. An honest 
                          man, sir, is able to speak for himself, when a knave 
                          is not. I have served your worship truly, sir, 
                          this eight years; and if I cannot once or twice in 
                          a quarter bear out a knave against an honest man, I 
                          have but a very little credit with your worship. The 
                          knave is mine honest friend, sir; therefore, I 
                          beseech your worship, let him be countenanced. 
 SHALLOW 
                          Go to; I say he shall have no wrong. Look about, Davy. 
                          [Exit DAVY] 
                          Where are you, Sir John? Come, come, come, off 
                          with your boots. Give me your hand, Master Bardolph. 
 BARDOLPH 
                          I am glad to see your worship. 
 SHALLOW 
                          I thank thee with all my heart, kind 
                          Master Bardolph: and welcome, my tall fellow. 
                          [To the Page] 
                          Come, Sir John. 
 FALSTAFF 
                          I'll follow you, good Master Robert Shallow. 
                          [Exit SHALLOW] 
                          Bardolph, look to our horses. 
                          [Exeunt BARDOLPH and Page] 
                          If I were sawed into quantities, I should make four 
                          dozen of such bearded hermits' staves as Master 
                          Shallow. It is a wonderful thing to see the 
                          semblable coherence of his men's spirits and his: 
                          they, by observing of him, do bear themselves like 
                          foolish justices; he, by conversing with them, is 
                          turned into a justice-like serving-man: their 
                          spirits are so married in conjunction with the 
                          participation of society that they flock together in 
                          consent, like so many wild-geese. If I had a suit 
                          to Master Shallow, I would humour his men with the 
                          imputation of being near their master: if to his 
                          men, I would curry with Master Shallow that no man 
                          could better command his servants. It is certain 
                          that either wise bearing or ignorant carriage is 
                          caught, as men take diseases, one of another: 
                          therefore let men take heed of their company. I 
                          will devise matter enough out of this Shallow to 
                          keep Prince Harry in continual laughter the wearing 
                          out of six fashions, which is four terms, or two 
                          actions, and a' shall laugh without intervallums. O, 
                          it is much that a lie with a slight oath and a jest 
                          with a sad brow will do with a fellow that never 
                          had the ache in his shoulders! O, you shall see him 
                          laugh till his face be like a wet cloak ill laid up! 
 SHALLOW 
                          [Within] Sir John! 
 FALSTAFF 
                          I come, Master Shallow; I come, Master Shallow. 
                          [Exit] 



Scene II Westminster. The palace.

                                 [Enter WARWICK and the Lord Chief-Justice, meeting] 
 WARWICK 
                                 How now, my lord chief-justice! whither away? 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 How doth the king? 
 WARWICK 
                                 Exceeding well; his cares are now all ended. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 I hope, not dead. 
 WARWICK 
                                 He's walk'd the way of nature; 
                                 And to our purposes he lives no more. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 I would his majesty had call'd me with him: 
                                 The service that I truly did his life 
                                 Hath left me open to all injuries. 
 WARWICK 
                                 Indeed I think the young king loves you not. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 I know he doth not, and do arm myself 
                                 To welcome the condition of the time, 
                                 Which cannot look more hideously upon me 
                                 Than I have drawn it in my fantasy. 
                                 [Enter LANCASTER, CLARENCE, GLOUCESTER, 
                                 WESTMORELAND, and others] 
 WARWICK 
                                 Here come the heavy issue of dead Harry: 
                                 O that the living Harry had the temper 
                                 Of him, the worst of these three gentlemen! 
                                 How many nobles then should hold their places 
                                 That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort! 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 O God, I fear all will be overturn'd! 
 LANCASTER 
                                 Good morrow, cousin Warwick, good morrow. 
 GLOUCESTER 

 CLARENCE 
                                 | 
                                 | Good morrow, cousin. 
                                 | 
 LANCASTER 
                                 We meet like men that had forgot to speak. 
 WARWICK 
                                 We do remember; but our argument 
                                 Is all too heavy to admit much talk. 
 LANCASTER 
                                 Well, peace be with him that hath made us heavy. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 Peace be with us, lest we be heavier! 
 GLOUCESTER 
                                 O, good my lord, you have lost a friend indeed; 
                                 And I dare swear you borrow not that face 
                                 Of seeming sorrow, it is sure your own. 
 LANCASTER 
                                 Though no man be assured what grace to find, 
                                 You stand in coldest expectation: 
                                 I am the sorrier; would 'twere otherwise. 
 CLARENCE 
                                 Well, you must now speak Sir John Falstaff fair; 
                                 Which swims against your stream of quality. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 Sweet princes, what I did, I did in honour, 
                                 Led by the impartial conduct of my soul: 
                                 And never shall you see that I will beg 
                                 A ragged and forestall'd remission. 
                                 If truth and upright innocency fail me, 
                                 I'll to the king my master that is dead, 
                                 And tell him who hath sent me after him. 
 WARWICK 
                                 Here comes the prince. 
                                 [Enter KING HENRY V, attended] 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 Good morrow; and God save your majesty! 
 KING HENRY V 
                                 This new and gorgeous garment, majesty, 
                                 Sits not so easy on me as you think. 
                                 Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear: 
                                 This is the English, not the Turkish court; 
                                 Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds, 
                                 But Harry Harry. Yet be sad, good brothers, 
                                 For, by my faith, it very well becomes you: 
                                 Sorrow so royally in you appears 
                                 That I will deeply put the fashion on 
                                 And wear it in my heart: why then, be sad; 
                                 But entertain no more of it, good brothers, 
                                 Than a joint burden laid upon us all. 
                                 For me, by heaven, I bid you be assured, 
                                 I'll be your father and your brother too; 
                                 Let me but bear your love, I 'll bear your cares: 
                                 Yet weep that Harry's dead; and so will I; 
                                 But Harry lives, that shall convert those tears 
                                 By number into hours of happiness. 
 Princes 
                                 We hope no other from your majesty. 
 KING HENRY V 
                                 You all look strangely on me: and you most; 
                                 You are, I think, assured I love you not. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 I am assured, if I be measured rightly, 
                                 Your majesty hath no just cause to hate me. 
 KING HENRY V 
                                 No! 
                                 How might a prince of my great hopes forget 
                                 So great indignities you laid upon me? 
                                 What! rate, rebuke, and roughly send to prison 
                                 The immediate heir of England! Was this easy? 
                                 May this be wash'd in Lethe, and forgotten? 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 I then did use the person of your father; 
                                 The image of his power lay then in me: 
                                 And, in the administration of his law, 
                                 Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth, 
                                 Your highness pleased to forget my place, 
                                 The majesty and power of law and justice, 
                                 The image of the king whom I presented, 
                                 And struck me in my very seat of judgment; 
                                 Whereon, as an offender to your father, 
                                 I gave bold way to my authority 
                                 And did commit you. If the deed were ill, 
                                 Be you contented, wearing now the garland, 
                                 To have a son set your decrees at nought, 
                                 To pluck down justice from your awful bench, 
                                 To trip the course of law and blunt the sword 
                                 That guards the peace and safety of your person; 
                                 Nay, more, to spurn at your most royal image 
                                 And mock your workings in a second body. 
                                 Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours; 
                                 Be now the father and propose a son, 
                                 Hear your own dignity so much profaned, 
                                 See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted, 
                                 Behold yourself so by a son disdain'd; 
                                 And then imagine me taking your part 
                                 And in your power soft silencing your son: 
                                 After this cold considerance, sentence me; 
                                 And, as you are a king, speak in your state 
                                 What I have done that misbecame my place, 
                                 My person, or my liege's sovereignty. 
 KING HENRY V 
                                 You are right, justice, and you weigh this well; 
                                 Therefore still bear the balance and the sword: 
                                 And I do wish your honours may increase, 
                                 Till you do live to see a son of mine 
                                 Offend you and obey you, as I did. 
                                 So shall I live to speak my father's words: 
                                 'Happy am I, that have a man so bold, 
                                 That dares do justice on my proper son; 
                                 And not less happy, having such a son, 
                                 That would deliver up his greatness so 
                                 Into the hands of justice.' You did commit me: 
                                 For which, I do commit into your hand 
                                 The unstained sword that you have used to bear; 
                                 With this remembrance, that you use the same 
                                 With the like bold, just and impartial spirit 
                                 As you have done 'gainst me. There is my hand. 
                                 You shall be as a father to my youth: 
                                 My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine ear, 
                                 And I will stoop and humble my intents 
                                 To your well-practised wise directions. 
                                 And, princes all, believe me, I beseech you; 
                                 My father is gone wild into his grave, 
                                 For in his tomb lie my affections; 
                                 And with his spirit sadly I survive, 
                                 To mock the expectation of the world, 
                                 To frustrate prophecies and to raze out 
                                 Rotten opinion, who hath writ me down 
                                 After my seeming. The tide of blood in me 
                                 Hath proudly flow'd in vanity till now: 
                                 Now doth it turn and ebb back to the sea, 
                                 Where it shall mingle with the state of floods 
                                 And flow henceforth in formal majesty. 
                                 Now call we our high court of parliament: 
                                 And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel, 
                                 That the great body of our state may go 
                                 In equal rank with the best govern'd nation; 
                                 That war, or peace, or both at once, may be 
                                 As things acquainted and familiar to us; 
                                 In which you, father, shall have foremost hand. 
                                 Our coronation done, we will accite, 
                                 As I before remember'd, all our state: 
                                 And, God consigning to my good intents, 
                                 No prince nor peer shall have just cause to say, 
                                 God shorten Harry's happy life one day! 
                                 [Exeunt] 



Scene III Gloucestershire. SHALLOW'S orchard.

                       [Enter FALSTAFF, SHALLOW, SILENCE, DAVY, BARDOLPH, 
                       and the Page] 
 SHALLOW 
                       Nay, you shall see my orchard, where, in an arbour, 
                       we will eat a last year's pippin of my own graffing, 
                       with a dish of caraways, and so forth: come, 
                       cousin Silence: and then to bed. 
 FALSTAFF 
                       'Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling and a rich. 
 SHALLOW 
                       Barren, barren, barren; beggars all, beggars all, 
                       Sir John: marry, good air. Spread, Davy; spread, 
                       Davy; well said, Davy. 
 FALSTAFF 
                       This Davy serves you for good uses; he is your 
                       serving-man and your husband. 
 SHALLOW 
                       A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good varlet, 
                       Sir John: by the mass, I have drunk too much sack 
                       at supper: a good varlet. Now sit down, now sit 
                       down: come, cousin. 
 SILENCE 
                       Ah, sirrah! quoth-a, we shall 
                       Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer, 
                       [Singing] 
                       And praise God for the merry year; 
                       When flesh is cheap and females dear, 
                       And lusty lads roam here and there 
                       So merrily, 
                       And ever among so merrily. 
 FALSTAFF 
                       There's a merry heart! Good Master Silence, I'll 
                       give you a health for that anon. 
 SHALLOW 
                       Give Master Bardolph some wine, Davy. 
 DAVY 
                       Sweet sir, sit; I'll be with you anon. most sweet 
                       sir, sit. Master page, good master page, sit. 
                       Proface! What you want in meat, we'll have in drink: 
                       but you must bear; the heart's all. 
                       [Exit] 
 SHALLOW 
                       Be merry, Master Bardolph; and, my little soldier 
                       there, be merry. 
 SILENCE 
                       Be merry, be merry, my wife has all; 
                       [Singing] 
                       For women are shrews, both short and tall: 
                       'Tis merry in hall when beards wag all, 
                       And welcome merry Shrove-tide. 
                       Be merry, be merry. 
 FALSTAFF 
                       I did not think Master Silence had been a man of 
                       this mettle. 
 SILENCE 
                       Who, I? I have been merry twice and once ere now. 
                       [Re-enter DAVY] 
 DAVY 
                       There's a dish of leather-coats for you. 
                       [To BARDOLPH] 
 SHALLOW 
                       Davy! 
 DAVY 
                       Your worship! I'll be with you straight. 
                       [To BARDOLPH] 
                       A cup of wine, sir? 
 SILENCE 
                       A cup of wine that's brisk and fine, 
                       [Singing] 
                       And drink unto the leman mine; 
                       And a merry heart lives long-a. 
 FALSTAFF 
                       Well said, Master Silence. 
 SILENCE 
                       An we shall be merry, now comes in the sweet o' the night. 
 FALSTAFF 
                       Health and long life to you, Master Silence. 
 SILENCE 
                       Fill the cup, and let it come; 
                       [Singing] 
                       I'll pledge you a mile to the bottom. 
 SHALLOW 
                       Honest Bardolph, welcome: if thou wantest any 
                       thing, and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart. 
                       Welcome, my little tiny thief. 
                       [To the Page] 
                       And welcome indeed too. I'll drink to Master 
                       Bardolph, and to all the cavaleros about London. 
 DAVY 
                       I hove to see London once ere I die. 
 BARDOLPH 
                       An I might see you there, Davy,-- 
 SHALLOW 
                       By the mass, you'll crack a quart together, ha! 
                       Will you not, Master Bardolph? 
 BARDOLPH 
                       Yea, sir, in a pottle-pot. 
 SHALLOW 
                       By God's liggens, I thank thee: the knave will 
                       stick by thee, I can assure thee that. A' will not 
                       out; he is true bred. 
 BARDOLPH 
                       And I'll stick by him, sir. 
 SHALLOW 
                       Why, there spoke a king. Lack nothing: be merry. 
                       [Knocking within] 
                       Look who's at door there, ho! who knocks? 
                       [Exit DAVY] 
 FALSTAFF 
                       Why, now you have done me right. 
                       [To SILENCE, seeing him take off a bumper] 
 SILENCE 
                       [Singing] 
                       Do me right, 
                       And dub me knight: Samingo. 
                       Is't not so? 
 FALSTAFF 
                       'Tis so. 
 SILENCE 
                       Is't so? Why then, say an old man can do somewhat. 
                       [Re-enter DAVY] 
 DAVY 
                       An't please your worship, there's one Pistol come 
                       from the court with news. 
 FALSTAFF 
                       From the court! let him come in. 
                       [Enter PISTOL] 
                       How now, Pistol! 
 PISTOL 
                       Sir John, God save you! 
 FALSTAFF 
                       What wind blew you hither, Pistol? 
 PISTOL 
                       Not the ill wind which blows no man to good. Sweet 
                       knight, thou art now one of the greatest men in this realm. 
 SILENCE 
                       By'r lady, I think a' be, but goodman Puff of Barson. 
 PISTOL 
                       Puff! 
                       Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base! 
                       Sir John, I am thy Pistol and thy friend, 
                       And helter-skelter have I rode to thee, 
                       And tidings do I bring and lucky joys 
                       And golden times and happy news of price. 
 FALSTAFF 
                       I pray thee now, deliver them like a man of this world. 
 PISTOL 
                       A foutre for the world and worldlings base! 
                       I speak of Africa and golden joys. 
 FALSTAFF 
                       O base Assyrian knight, what is thy news? 
                       Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof. 
 SILENCE 
                       And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John. 
                       [Singing] 
 PISTOL 
                       Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons? 
                       And shall good news be baffled? 
                       Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap. 
 SILENCE 
                       Honest gentleman, I know not your breeding. 
 PISTOL 
                       Why then, lament therefore. 
 SHALLOW 
                       Give me pardon, sir: if, sir, you come with news 
                       from the court, I take it there's but two ways, 
                       either to utter them, or to conceal them. I am, 
                       sir, under the king, in some authority. 
 PISTOL 
                       Under which king, Besonian? speak, or die. 
 SHALLOW 
                       Under King Harry. 
 PISTOL 
                       Harry the Fourth? or Fifth? 
 SHALLOW 
                       Harry the Fourth. 
 PISTOL 
                       A foutre for thine office! 
                       Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is king; 
                       Harry the Fifth's the man. I speak the truth: 
                       When Pistol lies, do this; and fig me, like 
                       The bragging Spaniard. 
 FALSTAFF 
                       What, is the old king dead? 
 PISTOL 
                       As nail in door: the things I speak are just. 
 FALSTAFF 
                       Away, Bardolph! saddle my horse. Master Robert 
                       Shallow, choose what office thou wilt in the land, 
                       'tis thine. Pistol, I will double-charge thee with dignities. 
 BARDOLPH 
                       O joyful day! 
                       I would not take a knighthood for my fortune. 
 PISTOL 
                       What! I do bring good news. 
 FALSTAFF 
                       Carry Master Silence to bed. Master Shallow, my 
                       Lord Shallow,--be what thou wilt; I am fortune's 
                       steward--get on thy boots: we'll ride all night. 
                       O sweet Pistol! Away, Bardolph! 
                       [Exit BARDOLPH] 
                       Come, Pistol, utter more to me; and withal devise 
                       something to do thyself good. Boot, boot, Master 
                       Shallow: I know the young king is sick for me. Let 
                       us take any man's horses; the laws of England are at 
                       my commandment. Blessed are they that have been my 
                       friends; and woe to my lord chief-justice! 
 PISTOL 
                       Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also! 
                       'Where is the life that late I led?' say they: 
                       Why, here it is; welcome these pleasant days! 
                       [Exeunt] 



Scene IV London. A street.

                                        [Enter Beadles, dragging in HOSTESS QUICKLY 
                                        and DOLL TEARSHEET] 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                        No, thou arrant knave; I would to God that I might 
                                        die, that I might have thee hanged: thou hast 
                                        drawn my shoulder out of joint. 
 First Beadle 
                                        The constables have delivered her over to me; and 
                                        she shall have whipping-cheer enough, I warrant 
                                        her: there hath been a man or two lately killed about her. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                        Nut-hook, nut-hook, you lie. Come on; I 'll tell 
                                        thee what, thou damned tripe-visaged rascal, an 
                                        the child I now go with do miscarry, thou wert 
                                        better thou hadst struck thy mother, thou 
                                        paper-faced villain. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                        O the Lord, that Sir John were come! he would make 
                                        this a bloody day to somebody. But I pray God the 
                                        fruit of her womb miscarry! 
 First Beadle 
                                        If it do, you shall have a dozen of cushions again; 
                                        you have but eleven now. Come, I charge you both go 
                                        with me; for the man is dead that you and Pistol 
                                        beat amongst you. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                        I'll tell you what, you thin man in a censer, I 
                                        will have you as soundly swinged for this,--you 
                                        blue-bottle rogue, you filthy famished correctioner, 
                                        if you be not swinged, I'll forswear half-kirtles. 
 First Beadle 
                                        Come, come, you she knight-errant, come. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                        O God, that right should thus overcome might! 
                                        Well, of sufferance comes ease. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                        Come, you rogue, come; bring me to a justice. 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                        Ay, come, you starved blood-hound. 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                        Goodman death, goodman bones! 
 MISTRESS QUICKLY 
                                        Thou atomy, thou! 
 DOLL TEARSHEET 
                                        Come, you thin thing; come you rascal. 
 First Beadle 
                                        Very well. 
                                        [Exeunt] 



Scene V A public place near Westminster Abbey.

                                 [Enter two Grooms, strewing rushes] 
 First Groom 
                                 More rushes, more rushes. 
 Second Groom 
                                 The trumpets have sounded twice. 
 First Groom 
                                 'Twill be two o'clock ere they come from the 
                                 coronation: dispatch, dispatch. 
                                 [Exeunt] 
                                 [Enter FALSTAFF, SHALLOW, PISTOL, 
                                 BARDOLPH, and Page] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 Stand here by me, Master Robert Shallow; I will 
                                 make the king do you grace: I will leer upon him as 
                                 a' comes by; and do but mark the countenance that he 
                                 will give me. 
 PISTOL 
                                 God bless thy lungs, good knight. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 Come here, Pistol; stand behind me. O, if I had had 
                                 time to have made new liveries, I would have 
                                 bestowed the thousand pound I borrowed of you. But 
                                 'tis no matter; this poor show doth better: this 
                                 doth infer the zeal I had to see him. 
 SHALLOW 
                                 It doth so. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 It shows my earnestness of affection,-- 
 SHALLOW 
                                 It doth so. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 My devotion,-- 
 SHALLOW 
                                 It doth, it doth, it doth. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 As it were, to ride day and night; and not to 
                                 deliberate, not to remember, not to have patience 
                                 to shift me,-- 
 SHALLOW 
                                 It is best, certain. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 But to stand stained with travel, and sweating with 
                                 desire to see him; thinking of nothing else, 
                                 putting all affairs else in oblivion, as if there 
                                 were nothing else to be done but to see him. 
 PISTOL 
                                 'Tis 'semper idem,' for 'obsque hoc nihil est:' 
                                 'tis all in every part. 
 SHALLOW 
                                 'Tis so, indeed. 
 PISTOL 
                                 My knight, I will inflame thy noble liver, 
                                 And make thee rage. 
                                 Thy Doll, and Helen of thy noble thoughts, 
                                 Is in base durance and contagious prison; 
                                 Haled thither 
                                 By most mechanical and dirty hand: 
                                 Rouse up revenge from ebon den with fell 
                                 Alecto's snake, 
                                 For Doll is in. Pistol speaks nought but truth. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 I will deliver her. 
                                 [Shouts within, and the trumpets sound] 
 PISTOL 
                                 There roar'd the sea, and trumpet-clangor sounds. 
                                 [Enter KING HENRY V and his train, the Lord Chief- 
                                 Justice among them] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 God save thy grace, King Hal! my royal Hal! 
 PISTOL 
                                 The heavens thee guard and keep, most royal imp of fame! 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 God save thee, my sweet boy! 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                 My lord chief-justice, speak to that vain man. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 Have you your wits? know you what 'tis to speak? 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 My king! my Jove! I speak to thee, my heart! 
 KING HENRY IV 
                                 I know thee not, old man: fall to thy prayers; 
                                 How ill white hairs become a fool and jester! 
                                 I have long dream'd of such a kind of man, 
                                 So surfeit-swell'd, so old and so profane; 
                                 But, being awaked, I do despise my dream. 
                                 Make less thy body hence, and more thy grace; 
                                 Leave gormandizing; know the grave doth gape 
                                 For thee thrice wider than for other men. 
                                 Reply not to me with a fool-born jest: 
                                 Presume not that I am the thing I was; 
                                 For God doth know, so shall the world perceive, 
                                 That I have turn'd away my former self; 
                                 So will I those that kept me company. 
                                 When thou dost hear I am as I have been, 
                                 Approach me, and thou shalt be as thou wast, 
                                 The tutor and the feeder of my riots: 
                                 Till then, I banish thee, on pain of death, 
                                 As I have done the rest of my misleaders, 
                                 Not to come near our person by ten mile. 
                                 For competence of life I will allow you, 
                                 That lack of means enforce you not to evil: 
                                 And, as we hear you do reform yourselves, 
                                 We will, according to your strengths and qualities, 
                                 Give you advancement. Be it your charge, my lord, 
                                 To see perform'd the tenor of our word. Set on. 
                                 [Exeunt KING HENRY V, &c] 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pound. 
 SHALLOW 
                                 Yea, marry, Sir John; which I beseech you to let me 
                                 have home with me. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 That can hardly be, Master Shallow. Do not you 
                                 grieve at this; I shall be sent for in private to 
                                 him: look you, he must seem thus to the world: 
                                 fear not your advancements; I will be the man yet 
                                 that shall make you great. 
 SHALLOW 
                                 I cannot well perceive how, unless you should give 
                                 me your doublet and stuff me out with straw. I 
                                 beseech you, good Sir John, let me have five hundred 
                                 of my thousand. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 Sir, I will be as good as my word: this that you 
                                 heard was but a colour. 
 SHALLOW 
                                 A colour that I fear you will die in, Sir John. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 Fear no colours: go with me to dinner: come, 
                                 Lieutenant Pistol; come, Bardolph: I shall be sent 
                                 for soon at night. 
                                 [Re-enter Prince John of LANCASTER, the Lord 
                                 Chief-Justice; Officers with them] 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 Go, carry Sir John Falstaff to the Fleet: 
                                 Take all his company along with him. 
 FALSTAFF 
                                 My lord, my lord,-- 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 I cannot now speak: I will hear you soon. 
                                 Take them away. 
 PISTOL 
                                 Si fortune me tormenta, spero contenta. 
                                 [Exeunt all but PRINCE JOHN and the Lord 
                                 Chief-Justice] 
 LANCASTER 
                                 I like this fair proceeding of the king's: 
                                 He hath intent his wonted followers 
                                 Shall all be very well provided for; 
                                 But all are banish'd till their conversations 
                                 Appear more wise and modest to the world. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 And so they are. 
 LANCASTER 
                                 The king hath call'd his parliament, my lord. 
 Lord Chief-Justice 
                                 He hath. 
 LANCASTER 
                                 I will lay odds that, ere this year expire, 
                                 We bear our civil swords and native fire 
                                 As far as France: I beard a bird so sing, 
                                 Whose music, to my thinking, pleased the king. 
                                 Come, will you hence? 
                                 [Exeunt] 
                                 EPILOGUE 
                                 [Spoken by a Dancer] 
                                 First my fear; then my courtesy; last my speech. 
                                 My fear is, your displeasure; my courtesy, my duty; 
                                 and my speech, to beg your pardons. If you look 
                                 for a good speech now, you undo me: for what I have 
                                 to say is of mine own making; and what indeed I 
                                 should say will, I doubt, prove mine own marring. 
                                 But to the purpose, and so to the venture. Be it 
                                 known to you, as it is very well, I was lately here 
                                 in the end of a displeasing play, to pray your 
                                 patience for it and to promise you a better. I 
                                 meant indeed to pay you with this; which, if like an 
                                 ill venture it come unluckily home, I break, and 
                                 you, my gentle creditors, lose. Here I promised you 
                                 I would be and here I commit my body to your 
                                 mercies: bate me some and I will pay you some and, 
                                 as most debtors do, promise you infinitely. 
                                 If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me, will 
                                 you command me to use my legs? and yet that were but 
                                 light payment, to dance out of your debt. But a 
                                 good conscience will make any possible satisfaction, 
                                 and so would I. All the gentlewomen here have 
                                 forgiven me: if the gentlemen will not, then the 
                                 gentlemen do not agree with the gentlewomen, which 
                                 was never seen before in such an assembly. 
                                 One word more, I beseech you. If you be not too 
                                 much cloyed with fat meat, our humble author will 
                                 continue the story, with Sir John in it, and make 
                                 you merry with fair Katharine of France: where, for 
                                 any thing I know, Falstaff shall die of a sweat, 
                                 unless already a' be killed with your hard 
                                 opinions; for Oldcastle died a martyr, and this is 
                                 not the man. My tongue is weary; when my legs are 
                                 too, I will bid you good night: and so kneel down 
                                 before you; but, indeed, to pray for the queen. 

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